Song of the Siren
by Twilight-staruby
Summary: A made vampire, Shadrach Silverthorne is everything a NightWorld leader is expected to be: Ruthless and powerful. Until Kiele, a vampire slayer so closely linked to the his treacherous past, shows up...it will all turn out for the better, or worse.
1. Prologue: Where it all begun

Title: Song of the Siren

Author: Twilightstaruby

Disclaimers: All concepts of the Nightworld and the characters Hannah(Hanna) and Thierry belongs to L.J Smith. Theorn, Christian(Shadrach), Kiele(Gwenivere), Kalika and Angelo belongs to me, like wise for all those characters you do not recognise.

**Impt: I have made slight changes to the chapters throughout the storyand there is NO new chapter currently. Also,Shadrach's surname is spelled as 'Silverthorne', not 'Silverthorn' as it is spelled before. Thanks...read on, hope you enjoy and remember to review! **

**The new chapter will be out soon after...it will be indicated besides the story summary...**

**Author's note: I am so sorry i keep making changes. I recently realised one was not supposed to post a disclaimers chapter so i have to make amendments.The next chapter will be out sometime soon after this is posted...I am having problems with the next chapter, thus the delay with the updates...**

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Summary: 

_You can never run away from your past; Because no matter how far you run, it will always come back to haunt you...always._

A vampire made in the 19th century, Shadrach Silverthorne was everything a nightworld ringleader was expected to be: Ruthless, powerful and merciless. Yet, beneath the icy-cool facade lay a past and a bitter soul tortured by his past, his inescapable past. When Kiele, a vampire slayer closely linked to him by the deaths of her mother and father and by his treacherous past, shows up, she could prove to be the onlything that could salvage him, or destroy him.

_Two lost souls, bound together by unpredictable fate and for all time...could they put aside their differences and _

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Dedication: 

_To my family and friends, for solely being what they are. And for being there when i need them._

_To people who have reviewed for me(didn't think i would forget you all...laughs); you bunch are the most wonderful and endearing people i have ever met! Three cheers for all of you!_

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_Next where the sirens dwell you plow the seas;_

_their song is death, and makes destruction please._

_-Pope_

Prologue: 

Kiele stared sightlessly out of the window, unaware of the silver sheets of rain that beat on the glass pane relentlessly, the exotic sound of it rhythmic and surprisingly soothing to one's years. She was staring sightlessly at the reflection that looked back at her in the glass-paned window. Silvery blond hair fell straight to the girl's waist, framing a sharp, elfish face with startling soulful violet eyes. It wasn't a beautiful face by normal standards, but there was something captivating about the sharp-featured face with its unusually colored eyes that dominating the face.

She was seated Indian-style, cross-legged, her hands wrapped protectively around a girl with a face eerily identical to hers, though her silvery-blond locks were shorn short. Head placed trustingly on Kiele's chest, she was curled up against Kiele in a fetal position as she too, stared out of the window. The only difference between the splitting images was the fact that there was a curious blankness in the other girl's wide violet eyes. There was nothing there in those bottomless depths; no reflection of a soul nor a glimmer of life in them. They were simply lifeless orbs that stare back at you with no recognition of your presence, eerie because of the lack of life and emotion. But even that wasn't able to detach the fact that there was an ethereal beauty around her, like Kiele. An untouchable beauty that called to mind the mystical beings that were in so abundance in Scotland and Ireland.

_A fae_. Her Scottish grandmother used to call her and her twin sister that, or a faery as it was more known as here. When she was little, she used to wonder that perhaps there was a truth in there. That her mother was a faery princess who fell in love with her father, a mortal, and came down to earth to live with him. Myra Donovan Cocharen certainly gave people the impression of a faery, with her lithe figure, ethereal looks and regal bearings.

But time and fate has a funny way of correcting fantasy, destroying dreams and dealing reality in huge doses. Any dreams she might have habored was destroyed long ago by the cold reality of her mother and father's death. And her twin sister's ailment. A pain long dulled by time constricted her throat at that reminder.

A streak of lightning lit up the whole room abruptly followed suit by a loud crack of thunder that ripped across the sky, startling Kiele into flinching slightly. But there was no reaction from the other girl. She simply lay there, like a lifeless doll, devoid of any emotion, her soul locked away in some dark corner of her mind, where she could escape from the cruelties of life and reality. Forever. Kiele adverted her gaze from the window to the top of Kalika's head. Stroking the girl's short hair gently, she tilted Kalika's head so that she was looking at her. Or into some ssemblance of looking.

"Come, Kalika. Let's put you to bed." If Kalika heard, she gave no indication. She simply looked at her with those blank eyes, her sweet face devoid of emotion.

Kiele swallowed the bile in her throat, overcome suddenly by the swamp of feelings that threatened to overwhelm her. Although the doctors had said that Kalika was too badly "injured mentally" to ever recover, Kiele refused to give up. Everyday, she talked to Kalika, in hopes of getting a response, but all her efforts always came to a naught. There were times that she really felt like giving up, but the thought that Kalika was the only thing left in this world that mattered to her always pushed her on, calling to her to never give up no matter what comes may.

Pushing aside her emotions, she paste a smile on her face then, with some considerable effort, pushed Kalika to a sitting position, got up from the window seat herself, then slung her arm around Kalika and pulled the girl to a stand, wobbling slightly under the heavy weight. Who knows that one looking as tiny as Kalika could weigh a ton? Grunting with the effort, she gave a sigh of relief as she deposited Kalika on the bed, which was thankfully not far from the window. Usually, she didn't have to do it, seeing that there was a live-in nurse seeing to Kalika's needs. But today, the nurse was down with flu and with no other available, Kiele had to take care of Kalika herself.

She tucked Kalika carefully into her bed, pausing at the sight of the rose mark on Kalika's shoulder. It had been carved deep enough to scar, a brown rose against pale creamy, white skin. It had been there when they had found Kalika, who was much in the same condition as she is now. Only then, it had not scarred over and blood had flowed freely from the wounds like a crimson river.

Kiele's hand tightened briefly on the coverlet, and made the silent oath as she stared down at her twin's face. _I will avenge you. Mark my words._

She loosened her grip on the coverlet, tucked her in, and bent down to plant a kiss on the girl's cheek. Kalika's eyes closed, the first sign of movement she had made the whole day. Kiele smiled sadly; it was the sole movement Kalika would make on her own, so it seems. She reached over Kalika's head and switch off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness, then, she moved quietly out of the room to leave her sister to rest.

Long after she was gone, the window opened, letting in the rain that had turned into a light drizzle and the cool damp air. A figure cloaked in black entered the room on soft, booted feet. Moving with the stealth of a predator, he moved over to the bed.

"Kalika." He whispered out the name as he trailed a light finger over the sleeping girl's cheek. There was regret, even sorrow in the sole word he had said. For a moment, he stood there, unmoving, as though contemplating the girl, then in a movement so quick it was a blur, he was out of the room, in the same way he had entered the room.

Seconds later, Kiele burst into the room.

"Kalika?" Kiele switch on the light. Funny, it was empty. She could have sworn that she had heard something. Then she saw the open window.

"Oh!" Racing over to the open window, she closed it, but the floor was already wet. "Damn." She was going to get it when the landlady found out. Then she frowned. She did not recall leaving the window unlatched. In fact, she didn't recall _opening_ the window. She peered out of the window, but the rain made it difficult to see anything. After checking that nothing was wrong or out of alignment in the room, she dismissed the feeling that someone was watching her as being too paraniod, switched off the lights and went out of the room to her bedroom.

She did not see the figure hiding behind a pillar observing her. Then, he simply faded noiselessly into the dark alleys behind him.

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Author's note: Please,_ please, PLEASE _review! Thanks! It was written on a spur of moment, so I hope it is good enough! 


	2. Chapter One: Remebrance

Title: Song of the Siren

Author: Twilightstaruby

Disclaimers: All Night World concept belongs to L.J.Smith. Kiele and the other characters in the story belongs to me

Author's note: Thanks to those who have reviewed. You guys really gave me the inspiration to continue the story. Hope you like it!

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Chapter One: 

The roar of the sea filled her ears and she could taste its salt in the air. The sea. She had grown up beside the sea, had loved it. Now, the vast ocean seemed to beckon to her, like a siren's song. It was one she couldn't resist, for the song of the siren was both seductive and beautiful. With a laugh, she spurred her mare towards the waters.

Someone shouted at her to come back, but she had missed the ocean so much and had suffered so much recently. She rode down the narrow rocky path that led to the vast sea ahead, urging the mare ahead even though she knew it wanted to bolt.

"Gwenivere!" the frantic cry came faintly, over the sound of the crashing waves.

She turned, laughing with delight and looked towards the shore. She saw him then, her companion, her soul mate. He was dressed in simple, ill-fitting clothes, his face a mask of terror as he raced towards the waters, towards her.

She wanted to tell him to stop worrying, to get back to the shore, for he was no swimmer, and that she had done this dozens of time before without harm. She lifted a hand and waved to him, to reassure him, but he kept coming, shouting her frantically as he fought against the waves to reach her. She frowned; the sea was more turbulent than usual that day, and he might be swept away by the waters if he was not careful.

She tried to steer the mare back towards the shore, but at the same moment, a gigantic wave came sweeping by them. The mare, already edgy, reared and flung her off its back. She heard him cry out in anguish as she stuck her shoulder hard against a rock. Pain, suffocating, rose up in volumes as she tried to remain on the surface. The heavy weight of her gown and kirtle dragged her down into the darkness of the sea. She tried to scream, but water filled her mouth, drove her under and held her there.

Then she felt another blow, this time on her head and she knew nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing-except for the name she had been screaming before she died.

Then a voice whispered into her ears," _If I can't have you, neither will he_."

* * *

Kiele woke up with a gasp to the shrilling sound of the phone's ring. Drawing a shaky breath, she picked up the phone. 

"Hello?"

"Kiele? Andrew here." The sound of her fellow slayer and friend relaxed her slightly, though still not enough to detach her from the fear that still gripped her from the chillingly realistic dream she just had.

"Andrew? Is there another meeting?"

"Uh-huh. Eli's place later tonight, eight." Then his voice turned concerned, his tone turning big-brotherly all of a sudden. "Kiele, are you alright? You sound…funny. Is Kalika all right?"

The concern in his voice made her smile. Andrew was one of the few people who knew about Kalika; one matter Kiele had trusted enough to tell him about. After all, he had practically taken her under his wing when she was going through her roughest patch in the lousy excuse of life she was living in.

"No, it isn't about Kalika. She is all right." Andrew's sigh of relief was audible on the other line, loud enough to make her grin. "I just had a bad dream. A very horrible one." She added with a shudder as she remembered the details of the too realistic dream.

"Nightmare. Hmm...I don't think even yours can compare with my live one. I don't believe yours reoccurs everyday. Mine does," As though in accord, a loud shriek came though the phone even as a thud followed. Kiele couldn't help laughing.

"Darn. Talk about nightmares. Tell me about yours later. We could exchange pointers about how to fend them off." Another thud and sound of crying rent the air. Andrew winced. " Have to go. See you later. _Ciao._ Let us hope she sprained her legs." Kiele heard Andrew mutter under his breath before he hung up.

Kiele burst out into laughter as she placed the phone back into its cradle. Andrew's little cousin Darla was more than a handful. She was a little terror. Poor Andrew, she thought as she went upstairs to her room dress for the meeting. Herlaughter faded as she remembered the dream. She recalled the terror, the last horrifying moments as she felt her life; no, not her, _Gwenivere_'s, flow out of her.The feeling and taste of the salt water that had filled her mouth and lungs as she fought to breathe in the darkmurky watersas it suffocated her and killed her eventually.It wasn't real of course, only a dream, but Kiele had felt as though it was she in that dream. She fought a shiver of terror and sat down at the edge of her bed, trying to control her feelings.

She wondered who that man had been; the one Gwenivere had said was her soul mate, her companion. She remembered little of his face, except for his striking storm-grey eyes and his agony which she had felt she clearly that had sliced through her when she had died. Whoever he was, he had loved her dearly, she knew that.

And that voice at the end of her dream: who had it been? It had been cold and evil, even twisted. It wasn't Gwenivere's soul mate who had spoken those words. She didn't know how she knew, she just did. And it frightened her. How could she have known? She thought as she got to her feet shakily and dragged on a pair of jeans and tattered T-Shirt. She slid her dagger out from its place of honour on her wall into her belt.

The dagger was made out of lignum vitae: the Wood of Life. The blade was a satiny green-black and carved with intricate designs and spells placed on it by the strongest witch in the city. It was Kiele's pride and joy. Kalika had an exact same dagger, not that it would ever be used. It had gone missing on the same day they found her.

The dream that had haunted her slipped from her mind as she looked in on her sister, who was sleeping. Moving quietly to Kalika, Kiele smoothed back the girl's hair from her forehead.

"I'll be back as soon as I can. Until then, be safe." She touched her fingertips to Kalika's forehead before going out. She locked the door behind her as she exited the apartment.

More out of habit than cautiousness, she kept an alert eye on her surroundings. She knew that her looks and physique were not exactly like those required of a slayer. Her pretty looks and petite figure gave rise to thought of faeries, delicate and fragile. But she was quick, with strength belying her looks. And those who worked with her before knew that she was one of the best slayers around.

She didn't meet any vampires on her way to Eli's three-room apartment, which was something new. Vampires like to prey on those who look delicate and defenseless, the exact image she knew she portray on the outside. She grinned as she heard a loud shriek emerge from behind the heavy oak door that was the entrance to Eli's home. It appears that Darla had somehow found her way here uninvited.

Raising her hand, Kiele rapped the door lightly in a rhythm they had devised to indicate that a member of their exclusive 'society' if you could call it such was at the door. The door opened to reveal a young man about Kiele's age, his brown eyes twinkled warmly at her as he bade her in. Like Kiele, Eli was dressed casually, glasses perched owlishly on the bridge of his nose. One would never guess from his appearance that he was the leader of the most formidable vampire slayer groups around on these shores.

"A little problem?" Kiele grinned as another shriek rent the air, piercing and high-pitched.

"A regular little fire-engine is our darling Darla." Eli said dryly as he led her to the living room, where an extremely harassed-looking Andrew was seated on the rug, his eyes closed, with Darla running circles around him, shrieking the whole time. It seems as though he had given up on trying to keep her in control. Otherslayers in the room lounge around, some amused, some couldn't care less.

"Say, do you think we should help him?" Wayne,one of theslayers present, said in general, eyeing the little hellion racing around Andrew, tugging on his hair occasionally as she went by.

"I think we should. He looks pretty pitiful." Leah murmured, but didn't move from her comfortable position on the couch.

"We should." Vivian said lazily, but didn't move.

"All talk no action eh, guys?" Eli commented dryly.

"No, of course. It is just that well, none of us care enough to be shrieked at until our eardrums bursts. We need our acute hearing for future missions." Jarve replied, a lazy smirk at theedge of his lips.

Kiele grinned and decided to spare her poor friend from the torture. As Darla streaked by, she reached out and snagged her arm with a practised ease. Then she produced lollipops from her pockets that quieten the little girl down immediately. Seated in Kiele's lap, she happily sucked on the lollipop given.

"I always wonder how she does that." Leah raised a brow.

"Did the little devil finally die of exhaustion?" Andrew asked, opening his eyes at last. "Ah, my angel." He grinned as he saw Kiele and the little girl in her lap. "What will I ever do without you?"

"Try to attempt murder on a little underaged girl?" Ashley piped up mischievously.

Kiele rolled her eyes in exasperation. " You are so bad around kids I can't help but worry for your kids next time."

"Why don't you marry me and put that right?" Andrew grinned, unrepentant.

"Yeah, in your dreams." Kiele retorted.

"Okay, I'll start dreaming tonight."

"Alright, now that peace has reigned again in this place I call home," Eli shot a look at Darla, who had fallen asleep, the lollipop still in her mouth,"Let's get down to serious business."

Immediately, all straightened. As Kiele glanced around the room, she could see how people might mistake them for simply ordinary teenagers out for a gathering. But all present were the best slayers in the continent.

Shifting Darla in her lap so that she might be more comfortable, Kiele leaned forward attentively.

"I have found out about the ring leader of illegal dealings in human slaves. His name is Shadrach Silverthorn, a Night World lord."

She stiffened. Kiele felt her heart clench at the mention of the name. _Shadrach Silverthorn. _The one scum of earth who killed her parents and made her sister what she was today.

"I need volunteers as this might be a suicide mis-"

"I'll do it." Kiele interrupted, her eyes glinting with malice.

Eli looked taken aback, but he quickly composed himself. "All right. As I was saying…"

Kiele didn't hear much of what he said later. She would kill Shadrach, for more reasons than one. But the sole reason that really mattered was enough to make Kiele decided that she would make him die a slow, horrible death.


	3. Chapter Two: Shadrach

Title: Song of the Siren

Author: Twilightstaruby

Disclaimers: All Night World concepts belongs to L.J.Smith. Kiele and the other characters in the story belong to me.

Chapter Two:

"Kiele, may I speak to you for a moment?" Eli's soft voice was undecipherable, but the worry in his eyes was evident. "In the study." he tilted his head towards the corridor that would lead tehm further into the apartment.

The meeting was halfway through and the slayers were taking a break. Darla was up and running again, and most stayed in the living room to be amused by the spectacle they had duped "Andrew and his little tormentor". Others had wandered off to the kitchen in search of refreshments. They had yet to decide on the people involved in the mission, but one thing was clear: every person present was more than willing to risk their lives for the mission, especially if it was to take down the infamous and never-before-beaten Nightworld ringleader Shadrach Silverthorne who happen to be one the hit list of every slayer alive.

Kiele nodded, and followed him to the room situated near the back of the apartment. No one noticed or were bothered their departure as it was nothing out of the ordinary. Andrew, the only one whowould have cared or be worried was too distracted by Darla. As they walked further away into the apartment, Darla's screaming became softer until it faded away completely when they shut the door of Eli's soundproof study room.

"Finally, peace and quiet. Darla's lungs are sure versatile." Kiele commented off-handedly with a certain degree of relief. The piercing 'quality' of Darla's shrieks were beginning to get on her nerves.

Eli let out a snort of laughter in answer as he gestured for her to take a seat on the settee opposite the desk while he took the armchair behind the desk. His study would have been normal, if not for the jaw-dropping array of weapons that lined the walls. "Ninja stuff", as Andrew used to call them. Weapons, mostly originated from ancient Japan,varying in sizes and shapes were displayed on every space available on the walls. But the one thing that really caught her eye were the stand-alone twin Japanese swords that graced one sideof the walls.

They were made of the same wood as her dagger, lignum vitae, their long, ebonyblade subtly curved and keen enough to be able to cut through a feather balanced on top of blade without any pressure. It was a beautiful piece of work, one that had been given to Eli by his parents, who were also slayers and had died by the hands of vampires.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" Eli said quietly when he saw her admiring them. She nodded, knowing of their significance and of the pain that it must have brought him every time he laid eyes on them for they alone carried the stain of his parents death and blood.

"Kiele, I want to speak-"

"I know what you wanted to speak to me about. You want to know why I wanted to head this mission, since I have always hated doing so." Kiele cut in before he could even finishthe sentence, anticipating the question even before it came.

At Eli's nod, she continued," I have my reasons. Personal reasons." Reasons valid enough for _him_ to die in the worse way possible.

"I realized that. Is it possible to share these reasons with me?" Eli asked softly, somehow sensing that this was something important, and private to Kiele herself. Even though they have known each other for a long time, each of them respected each other's privacy and never came in where they were not wanted. There were many things about Kiele that Eli didn't know about and vice versa.

Kiele paused, quiet for a while asshe fought an inner turmoil coiling in her. Should she, or should she not tell Eli? Eli would keep his silence,that much she knewand she respected him. She thought back on the times he had kept at her side, supportedand helped her through her roughest patches in life.When she looked up, she saw him looked at her in his patient and concerned way, as one would look at a beloved sister. She knew then it would be all right to tell him and made up her mind in the spot.

"You know about a slayer who calls herself Isra?" she asked softly but already knew the answer. Any self-respecting slayer would know who that was. She was more than a slayer; she was a legend. And-

"She was my mother."

She knew this time she had really shocked Eli. His jaw literally dropped and he kept blinking at her as though he had something in his eyes.

"Your, your mother was_ Isra_?" he sputtered out, a comical expression of shock and disbelief on his face. Kiele would have found it amusing if she wasn't feeling as though she wanted to cry inside. It took alot out of her, both emotionally and physically, to drag out and relieve the dreadedpast again.

"Yes. Her real name was Myra. Myra Donovan." Kiele continued in a soft voice, battling conflicting emotions within her. "She was married to my father, Gareth Cocharen."

"Isn't he the tycoon who own like, half the continent?" Eli's incredulous tone finally squeezed a smile from Kiele's face, even though it was one filled with sorrow and bittersweet.

"Not really half the continent, but rich he was. Floundering in money, my mother used to say." Kiele's face held a reminiscence smile and she continued, "They loved each other very much, and yes, he knew about her 'part-time' job. He accepted her way of life, though he never did approved of it," She answered Eli's unasked question, which was reflected in his eyes.

"They had two children, twins in fact, Kalika and me."

"You have a sister? And here I thought I wouldn't be more surprise if you told me you were a dragon." He murmured, more to himself than anyone else. Kiele felt a smile tugging at the edges of her mouth. Somehow, being around with Eli made everything easier to say out. He always had that effect on her, or on anyone else for that matter. Eli was simply one of those people who had the ablility to make anyone around him relax and he was remarkably easy to talk to.

"You would know about how my mother died, right? 'By the hands of an unidentified vampire'," she mimicked the voice of the detestable nightworld coroner, a healer witch really, bitterness edvident in his tone. "But he wasn't unidentified." She said softly, "They were just too afraid to confront him. For they thought: since a legend can't even beat him, what chances do we have? No one was willing to give their lives away for the simple sake of revenge for someone they do not know," she laughed mockingly, bitterness and anger edging the sound.

Suddenly, what she had been implying struck him. "The vampire was Shadrach, wasn't it?"

"Yes. My sister went after him a year age. I was too late in stopping her. When we found her, she was damaged too badly in her mind to ever recover. The doctors couldn't help her even with the best technology my father's money could buy. So you see, these are the reasons why I will, no, must kill him." She raised her head and stared at Eli, who looked at her, horror and sadness in his handsome features,pity showing clearly in his eyes.

"But have you thought about what will happen to your sister if you died? What about your father? And are you sure it was Shadrach who did all this?"

"He killed himself soon after my mother's demise. I have made arrangements for Kalika to be taken care of. And I am sure of it. Nobody could have done it except him."

Eli sighed, knowing that her mind was already made up and that nothing he could say would change her mind. "Then take care, Kiele. And be careful. Don't you dare lose your life." Then, in a movement that surprised them both, he leaned forward and hugged her tightly. After getting over the initial surprise, Kiele hugged him back. For a while, they remained in that position. Then, Kiele pushed him away. "You are going to make me cry." She informed him with a watery smile, swiping at her eyes with the back of her hands.

"I think I already did." Eli grinned.

"And it is not as though we won't see each other again." Kiele said, but both of them knew the truth. Chances were that she might die on the mission. She knew it, and so did he. But they kept it to themselves, unwilling to give up hope. They spent a few minutes composing themselves before exiting the study and returning to the living room where they found the rest of the group laughing in mirth as Andrew was cursing about the loss of his few strands of hair, which were clutched in Darla's little palm at the same moment.

The rest of the meeting went quickly. At their appearance, Darla ran to Kiele who managed to quieten her down in a matter of few seconds. Eli ran over the plan to the now quiet and alert group. Occasionally, someone interrupted with a question, which Eli answered smoothly. They chose the people who would be on the team Kiele would be leading and the backup team.

Finally, Eli dismissed them with a "break a leg, guys."

Jarve answered lazily with an "I think we might be breaking more than that."

"Yeah, like our necks, for example." Vivian laughed as she exited the house with the others. Kiele turned, ready to leave with the others when Eli's voice stopped her from doing so.

"Kiele, wait." Eli called out. Kiele turned around surprised as she saw him ran back into the house. Seconds later, he came back and thrust something long into Kiele's hands. Surprised, she nearly dropped the sword he had given her. It was one of the twin Japanese swords she had been admiring not long ago. She blinked, more out of surprise than anything, at Eli, who smiled at her brotherly, his eyes alight with a emotion Kiele was unable to decipher.

"Now you have to gave it back to me personally after the mission. Alive.May it protect you." Kiele felt tears clog her throat. Unable to speak, she threw her arms around Eli and then departed before he could see the tears swimming in her eyes.

* * *

The moon was high in the air, its silver rays lending the essential light and shadows the slayers needed. It was a beautiful night, cloudless, leaving the moon and the stars intheir brilliance to dominate the dark sky. It reminded Kiele of Lord Bryon's poem, She walks in beauty. Her mother had loved the poem, often saying that it was one of the most accomplished masterpieces in the world. She still remembered the words: 

She walks in beauty, like the night  
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;  
And all that's best of dark and bright  
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

Perfect to describe this particular night. Pity, Kiele thought as the car sped along the darkened streets with nary a sound, that Shadrach Silverthorn would have to die on such a beautiful night. She would have preferred him to die while the winds wailed and the rain splashed, just like the night her mother had died and in the brutal way she had died. The car grinded to a halt a few metres away from their destination and the slayers within alight stealthily onto the pavement. As soon as they had alight, the black coloured car drove away with a low purr.

The slayers, five in all (Kiele, Jarve, Andrew, Leah and Wayne), were dressed in black ninja garb, the lower half of their faces covered with a mask thatpreventedtheir identities from being discovered. Kiele fingered the swordhilt strappedat her side and recalled Eli's last words to her. Well, one thing was sure: she did not plan to die tonight. It was already decided who would die a long time ago and only him would die on this night, barred a few vampire minions. She was going to make sure of that.

At Kiele's signal, they splited and melted into the night and shadows casted by the moon with a skill and stealth of one used to it. This way, they would not be detected so easily, rather than as a whole group. They were all headed towards one destination: the old warehouse where a transaction was supposedly on. Shadrach would be there, as would few of the other important night world ringleaders. Killing two birds, no six leeches actually, with one stone. A rather good deal if you ask her. Kiele smiled a feral smile as she closed in to the warehouse. Several huge trucks were parked outside the warehouse, probably used to deliver the human slaves. This meant that the transaction was already on. Good. This way, they will be less liable to be detected by the nightworlders within.

She then saw a darker shadow slipping through the shadows cast by the warehouse towards the warehouse. Andrew. Slipping forward to join him, she tapped him on the shoulder in a code rhythm to inform him that it was only she. As soon as he realized who she was, he relaxed his stance and grip on the sword strapped to his waist and indicated with a slight tilt of his head to the lone two vampires that were guarding the entrance.

_Only two?_A prickle of unease formed on her skin but she ignored it. The rest were probably still in the warehouse guarding the human slaves or guarding Shadrach Silverthorn. Her lips turned up in a sneer at the name, a reflex movement. Pushing aside the feeling of unease, she moved closer to Andrew.

"Left's mine." She whispered. Andrew nodded. In accordance, they moved towards the two guards and made quick work of them, who went down with nary a sound and collasped down next to the heavy doors of the warehouse. Together, in accord, they entered the building silently. It was pitch-dark and had a musky smell, as though it had not been used for sometime and thesilence that descended like a thick blanket was oppressive as they entered. Something was wrong. Kiele could feel it. It was too quiet. Her slayer instincts told her to run for the nearest exit at the invisible threat she felt. Then she realized it the same time as Andrew but it was too late. The doors slammed shut behind them, plunging them into darkness.

"A trap. They knew we were coming." Kiele said grimly as a masculine laugh rang out throughout the warehouse.

"Welcome to our lair, slayers." Lights blinked on suddenly, illuminating the whole place, and the man who spoke those words. He gave a low, ironic bow to them, "Shadrach Silverthorne at your service."

* * *

Author's notes: 

Incarnated-soul: Thanks for reviewing, and I usually get these names from either websites dedicated to names or from books. I copy down those that interest me. And no, I have never read the Moon Riders. Maybe I'll try it the next time, seems to be a good read, judging from the name.

Thanks to those people for reviewing, though it would be nice if you keep on doing it! Love you guys!


	4. Chapter Three: Lost love

Title: Song of the Siren

Author: Twilightstaruby

Disclaimers: All Night World concepts belongs to L.J.Smith. Kiele and the other characters in the story belong to me.

Author's notes:

So sorry this took so long. I was suffering from the after effects of jet lag and experiencing writer's block at the same time.

Thanks to the people who have reviewed! You people are my inspiration for the continuation of the story. So, I dedicate this chapter to all you guys out there! Hope you will enjoy it! Changed bits and parts of chapter two,though the essential tale is still the same.

* * *

'Alas I have grieved so long I am hard to love. 

Yet love me-wilt thou? Open thine heart wide…'

-Elizabeth Barett Browning

Chapter three:

Provocative grey eyes looked at them disdainfully from an almost inhumanly beautiful face, framed by silky, black hair. His mouth was lifted up at the edges in a mocking ironic smile. Dressed all in black, he looked like the Prince of Shadows and Darkness: Lucifer.

"Slayers, how nice of you to grace our little…gathering." He drawled out lazily. "Of course, it wasn't as if you were invited."

"As you can see, you are surrounded in and hopelessly outnumbered." he continued almost lazily, one hand gesturing around them. Kiele didn't need to see to confirm his words; her slayer instincts told her enough. A feral smile lit his face. "So I am afraid you won't be getting out alive from here today."

"Damn." Andrew muttered under his breath, his body automatically shifting into his fighting stance; hand on the stake strapped to his waist. Kiele adopted a similar posture; withdrawing the sword Eli had given her. But she knew their chances of getting out alive today were practically nil.

"So, I'll offer you a proposition."

"No." Kiele said vehemently before he had even finished. From her previous experiences, she had concluded that anything vampires said was not to be trusted and any propositions they happen to offer comes with strings, preferably the stainless steel and chain-like kind.

"Actually, I don't think you have any choice in that matter. Bring them in," he gestured to one of the vampires.

With a sinking feeling, Kiele watched as the other slayers, bound and tied, were shoved unceremoniously into view. All three were unconscious.

She withdrew the sword, Andrew doing the same beside her, knowing that they had been out-maneuvered.

A smile lit the vampire's face. It was a smile of one who knows that he had won. Kiele loathed the sight of it. She yearned to drive her sword into that shriveled up excuse of a heart Shadrach had, but to do so would put the captive slayers into danger. She would never put her friends into danger. Over the years, they had grown to be more than that. They had become her companions, her _family. _

"What do you want?"

* * *

Hours later, she was chained up in the dungeon. She had no idea where the rest of the slayers were put to. A musky smell filled her nose and it was pitched dark. The only sound in the god-forsaken place was the sound of scampering feet and occasional squeaking from the rats that inhabited the place. Seating on her tiny bed provided, Kiele silently willed them to stay at their side of the dungeon and not invade her side. At least, she _hoped_ that they were far away from her. She couldn't see a thing here. If there was anything Kiele hated more than Shadrach, it was rats.

Light suddenly flooded the tiny cell as the door creaked open. Kiele blinked, unaccustomed to the sudden brightness. A dark figure filled the entrance. Shadrach.

"Well, well. How are you finding your accommodations, slayer?" Shadrach's voice was pleasant, as though they were discussing no more than the weather.

"Great. Like the chains a lot." Sarcasm lined her words as she said the words. "Just thought you might like to know that they are kind of uncomfortable." The chains clunked noisily as she jangled them to emphasize her point.

"We can't have you escaping now, can we?" he sent her a blinding smile. "Now, let's talk."

"Cut the crap, Silverthron," Kiele snarled. "Where are my friends?"

"Touché, my little slayer. And your friends are fine. I gave you my word, didn't I?"

"Your kind never gave me any reason to believe in your word. In fact, in the few _interactions_," her lips curled slightly at the words, "I had with your kind, I have reason enough to disbelieve anything that comes out of your mouth."

"Didn't you learn anything in during your training, my little slayer?"

He stepped forward and touched the tip of her chin, tilting it up to him. He was too close for her liking and somehow, she felt as though she couldn't breathe. His unfathomable grey eyes swept over her face as though memorizing her. She was suddenly absurdly glad that her facemask still covered the lower half of her face.

When he spoke, his breath brushed gently over her face, no more than a gentle caress, one that made her shiver, "Never get attached. In your line of work, it can get you and the ones you love killed. In this case, it applies to you and your _friends_."

He moved far back enough so that she could see his face. A tiny frown marred his face and before she knew could stop him, he reached behind her head and jerked the facemask free from her face. She gasped, her hands instinctively flying up to cover her exposed face but was stopped by the chains.

Shadrach gave the mask he held in his hand a disdainful look before flinging it without care behind him. She heard the mask hit the floor with a dull thud then the sound of scrambling feet. Rats. Unable to help her self, she shuddered. Disgusting little creatures. Compared to them, she preferred the current company, however poisonous he may turn out to be.

"I heard that." Shadrach's tone was amused as he fixed his gaze on her. "I can't believe-" whatever he had been about to say froze on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he whispered one name, one name that had been everything once and nothing, "Gwenivere."

* * *

Kiele started. Such a simple uttering of a name, yet it invoked so many emotions in her, emotions she didn't know, didn't recognize, didn't _want_. Gwenivere. The name the name her soulmate in her dream had shouted. How did he know?

"That was what he called her. In my dream," She whispered, her eyes lifting up to meet his storm-like ones. "Gwenivere. Before she died, under the rolling waves."

The dream had been bugging her for a while now. It came to her nearly every night after the first time it appeared. She remembered the taste of terror and fear she had felt when she had gone down, dragged under by the merciless waves.

She watched as his eyes darken to onyx, emotions she couldn't decipher churning in them. Then something hit her.

"Your eyes," she whispered, not realizing that her hands were reaching out to him, "the same eyes he had, my soul mate, my life."

* * *

"Gwenivere."

Shadrach stared, unable to move, at the reincarnation of his lost love. Emotions swamped him as he watched her start at the mention of the name. It was obvious she recognized the name, though from where he didn't know.

Her eyes lifted to his, her words soft, so soft he had to strain to hear what she was saying. His heart clenched painfully at what he heard; the recounting of Gwenivere's death. Then she said something that made his heart stop.

"Your eyes," she whispered, "the same eyes he had, my soul mate, my life."

* * *

Shadrach finally moved, but it was away from her.

"No!" his eyes flashing, he backed away from her, like an animal cornered, his mouth curled up in to a snarl. "I was never your soul mate. Not ever."

Shock, hurt, dozens of other undecipherable emotions flooded her. There was so much she wanted to say, so many thoughts, but only one came through, "What do you mean?"

Shadrach let out a laugh, a bitter sound, then said in a pain-glazed whisper, "You were never mine, because my _brother _was your soul mate."

Then he left, leaving her once again shut in the darkness, in despair.

* * *

Author's note: Sorry this is so short. I promise the next chapter will be much longer...please remember to review!! Thanks... 


	5. Chapter Four: The first meeting

Title: Song of the Siren

Author: Twilightstaruby

Disclaimers: All Night World concepts belongs to L.J.Smith. Kiele and the other characters in the story belong to me.

* * *

'T is believ'd that this harp which I wake now for thee  
Was a **siren** of old who sung under the sea. 

-Thomas Moore(1779-1852), _The Origin of the Harp_

Chapter Four

_The Past,_

_England, 1812_

_Christian Gabriel Shadrach Claymore, fifth Duke of Rutherford, reveled in the quiet and the peacefulness the forests of Rutherford offered as he rode astride his stallion, Black Fury, through the thick forestry. The quiet morning ride was a welcome relief from the balls and administrative work that now filled up his days since his father's demise a year ago._

_There had been no love lost between the old Duke of Rutherford and his oldest son, though the old man had doted on his youngest son, Theorn. The Duke had hated the mere sight of him since he was little. Christian remembered the times when he was little he had tried every way and methods possible to make the Duke show simply a bit of affection or pride in him. Finally, Christian had lost hope that the man would ever return his love and the hopelessness inside him turned into hatred towards the man who had sired him. He never understood why the Duke had loathed the sight of him and never once did the Duke seen fit to tell him. Until the day he was on his deathbed._

_Christian hadn't wanted to return; he had no desire to face a man who had hated him and whom he hated for hating him. It was only under the pleading of his younger brother, whom Christian always loved despite every thing, that he returned. There, he finally learnt the truth of his father's hatred: that he resembled his mother, who had cheated on the Duke with another man when she tried to elope with her lover, together with the Rutherford's heirloom jewels._

_Unfortunately for the Duchess and fortunately for the jewels, she slipped from the window ledge of her bedroom window and fell to her death on the ground below. The jewels were recovered, but the Duke never forgave the woman who had cheated on him. Unable to take out his fury on the dead, he had turned it instead on his unsuspecting six-year-old son, who resembled his mother uncannily with his arresting features._

_The Duke had asked for his forgiveness, but Christian simply couldn't find it in himself to forgive the man who had, because of his wife's infidelity, made his childhood a living hell. He had left the place that had made up much of his unhappy childhood without once looking back, taking with him all his hatred for the selfish man he used to call father. Hours later, the Duke died, leaving to his eldest son the title of the fifth Duke of Rutherford and all the prestige that came with it._

_A sardonic smile twisted Christian's lips as he thought of his father's last attempt at hoping to get his son's forgiveness. He hadn't even wanted the title and every thing that came with it. It reminded him too much of his father and his childhood. _

_He had tried to get Theorn to accept the title instead, but his brother had refused, saying that he should keep whatever that had been given to him. Besides, Theorn had said, he was contented to be just what he was. He grinned then, saying that he would rather be a plain Mister than a Duke, which came together with all the matchmaking mothers in the district and their empty headed daughters. _

_Christian groaned at the reminder of that. Ever since he had acquired the title and wealth that came with it, combined with his good looks, he was now the 'Darling of the Ton', as his brother had said laughingly. The matchmaking mothers of the tons had chased after him with their daughters in tow with the doggedness of a leech. A few hundred of them, to be exact. _

_It made Christian dread the up-coming ball hosted by the Ashcrofts. Unfortunately, the Ashcrofts were an important family in the standards of the ton and there was no way Christian could avoid without it looking like a slight on them. Moreover, the Ashcrofts were an old family friend. They were the ones who had made Christian's childhood almost bearable. _

_Besides, he had already promised Grayson Ashcroft, his closest friend and the Earl of Langwood, that he would be there. Christian let out a sigh that echoed through the silent forest. Absentmindly, he turned Black Fury down the path that he knew would lead to a clearing in the forest that would allow Black Fury to rest and for him to be alone to think in beauty of nature. _

_As he neared the clearing, he heard a splash and humming of a jaunty tune that alerted him of someone's presence in the clearing. It annoyed him faintly at first to think that someone was trespassing, but then, he or she didn't seem to be doing anything harmful. Annoyance slowly faded to amusement and curiosity as he caught sight of a child clad in pale blue with a wide straw hat covering her hair soaking her bare feet in the river. _

_Not wanting to frighten off what seemed like a innocent child's enjoyment of the stream that flowed through the middle of the clearing, he alighted from Black Fury, tied him to a tree and stepped forward, planning to reveal himself to the child without frightening her. _

_Even though he was certain that he never made a sound, the child look suddenly towards where he was standing and asked in a soft melodious tone," Chris? Is that you?" _

_Taken aback, Christian gaped at the girl. He was sure that he had never met the girl before yet how did she know his name? And for her to call him so familiarly by his given name instead of the proper respect his title required was absurd. Yet, he was amused by the audacity of this tiny slip of a child. He prepared to step forward to fulfill her demand but it appeared that he had waited a tad to long to answer, for her voice rang out again clearly, this time tinged with annoyance and exasperation. _

_"Chris, come out of there or do I have to go in and drag you out?" _

_Eyebrows raised, Christian complied as he stepped out of undergrowth into the clearing. With a little bow, he said in a amused voice," What can I do for you, my lady?" When silence hung in the air, then a splash sounded after he had presented himself, he looked up to see the girl standing and her mouth hanging open in a most amusing manner before she closed it and demanded," Who are you?" _

_Raising a brow, he replied genially," Chris of course, my lady." _

_Raising her brow, she said in a all-knowing tone," You are most certainly not Chris."_

_Laughter threatened to overwhelm him as he replied," I most certainly am. There are other people out there also named Chris besides your friend, my lady."_

_Christian saw her pursed her full lips into a pout and grinned at the sight of it. Now that he was closer to her, he realized with a start that she wasn't at all the child he thought her to be. Her slender figure was draped most becomingly in a pale blue gown that emphasized her figure. Pale blond hair slipped from the hat to fall in a straight lock down to her slim waist. Her eyes were a most unusual shade of purple that dominated a sharp elfish face._

_It reminded him of amethysts, ones that you could look into and lose yourself in. Her face wasn't beautiful by usual standards, yet it was arresting, compelling and full of gaiety that would draw people to her like moths._

_"What are you doing here?" Christian grinned at her attempt to change the topic once she realized she was in the wrong. "Do you realize that you are trespassing?"_

_His eyes dancing with restrained laughter, Christian answered her in like," Do you realize that you are trespassing yourself, my lady?"_

_"I know the Duke himself. I am not sure you do." She said haughtily, her nose upturned. "But I will not to tell him about you trespassing his land today."_

_"I am sure you will not, my lady. For that, I am thankful," Laughter was evident in the tone of his voice as he replied in a choked voice. To avoid her noticing that he was laughing at her blatant lie, he tipped his face towards the sky. He then realized that it was almost noon and he needed to return back to Rutherford to deal with some administrative matters on the estates he had inherited. Regretting that he had to leave this enchanting slip of a girl, so different from the empty-headed misses that occupied London's ballrooms these days, he stepped forward to take her ungloved hand._

_"Before I go, much as I hate to for it would deprive me of your lovely company, may I have the honor of knowing your name, my lady?"_

_A smile tugged at the edges of Christian's mouth as she appeared to consider whether to tell him her name, her beautiful eyes narrowed at his as she considered whether he might have something up his sleeves._

_Finally, reluctance in her tone, she said, "Lady Gwenivere Sophia Thornton."_

_He lifted her hand to place a kiss on her knuckles, knowing it wasn't proper yet he couldn't resist doing it. He looked up to see her cheeks flush with slight color and smiled inwardly to himself. "I'll take my leave then, Lady Gwenivere."_

_With that, he turned, planning to get back to Black Fury, when the sound of her voice stopped him. "May I know your name, sir?"_

_He turned back, contemplating whether to tell her his real name. On second thoughts, he decided to do so. With a flourished bow, he offered, "Christian Gabriel Shadrach Claymore, Duke of Rutherford at your service, my lady."_

_His last view of lady Gwenivere Sophia Thornton was of her with her mouth hanging open, speechless with horror._


	6. Chapter Five: Angelo

Title: Song of the Siren

Author: Twilightstaruby

Disclaimers: All Night World concepts belongs to L.J.Smith. Kiele and the other characters in the story belong to me.

I never really had a chance to thank all those people who reviewed for moi nor answer their questions, so here they are:

:untilhellfreezesover: Shadrach does have something to do with the dream on the second chapter. In fact, i could tell you that he **is **the guy in the dream. But that is all i am going to tell you. You will have to read yourselfto find out!

:Piscean Wisdom: it isn't Shadrach's voice in the dream. that is all i can tell you. you will have to read on to find out about the soulmate link, whether it does exists between Shadrach and Kiele. that is all i can tell at this point of time.

:And thanks to people like incarnated-soul, ValeskanyaxXx, Tika, Dark Angel's Blue Fire, NaruKami, babe in black, Calisia girl, Dogs die in hot cars and shane's galfor reviewing for the song of the sieren and for Chryseis too. Thanks a lot guys!

Hope you will enjoy this chapter! And pls remember to review!

* * *

The **Siren** waits thee, singing song for song.  
- Walter Savage Landor (1775-1864), _To Robert Browning._

Chapter Five 

Shadrach was in an extremely bad mood .He blamed it all on a certain vampire slayer with bewitching violet eyes currently locked in his dungeon four stories beneath him. Disturbing dreams haunted him throughout the night, causing his lack of sleep and thus inadvertently put him in an extremely bad mood.

He pinned the hapless vampire that stood in front of his desk with a glacier stare that would make a plant wither on the spot and asked in a soft dangerous tone," Didn't I specifically stated that no one is to bother me today?"

"Bu-but sir! The Council-" He never got to finish before Shadrach interrupted him in a tone that bode not well for the poor messenger.

"Get out of my sight and tell those tight-ass leeches that I do things my own way or I'll do them not at all!"

The vampire sketched a hasty retreat out of the office with a terrified yelp at the menace in Shadrach's tone. Seething with fury at the meddlesome Night World Council, he picked up the decanter of whiskey that lay near his elbow, planning to drown off his fury, but before he could do so, the door opened again to reveal the pale strained face of the messenger.

"Can I rephrase that, sir?"

Shadrach let out an unholy snarl and threw the glass of decanter he held in his hand right at the messenger's head. The door slammed shut just in time as the decanter smashed into the door, spilling amber liquid and glass shards onto the lush carpeted floor below.

The door opened again but this time, Shadrach was deprived of anything near his hand to throw. Angelo strolled casually into the room, unperturbed by the fact that Shadrach was looking murderous enough to kill him despite their long-standing friendship and past together. Dressed casually and comfortably in black, with a single diamond stud in his left ear, Angelo looked every inch like the dangerous, and arrogant creature of the dark he was born as.

Sparing a glance at the mess on the door and the stained carpet, he inquired pleasantly, "What bit you, Silverthorn? Or the more likely scenario is what did **_you_ **bite?"

"Doesn't anyone in this goddamn monster excuse of a building understand English?" Shadrach snarled in frustration. The last thing he wanted to do now was to be in anyone's company. He had purposely told his secretary that he wanted to be alone, but apparently, the dimwit didn't understand him. He will pay for it later, Shadrach promised grimly.

"If it comforts you, Silverthorn, I can speak fluently in five languages, English being one of them." Angelo grinned as he seated himself comfortably in the chair opposite Shadrach.

."Then what is so difficult about understanding a few simple English words that specify I wished to be left alone for today?" the last word came out as a hiss as Shadrach fought to keep his anger in check.

Angelo suddenly became very interested in the spilled whiskey. "Pity about the whiskey. Such a waste."

"Angelo." Shadrach's tone held a warning tone.

"Christian Gabriel Shadrach." Angelo returned nonchalantly, his cobalt blue eyes twinkling in amusement as he caught Shadrach's wince.

"How many times have I told you not to call me that? I sound like some…some paragon of God," He spat out in disgust.

"When you are really the spawn of the Devil?" Angelo put in.

The frosty glare Shadrach sent him told Angelo that the paragon of God did not find his rejoinder funny at all.

"You never answered my question, Silverthorn. Why the black mood?"

He noted the narrowing of those steely grey eyes but ignored the warning.

"You are like a dog with a bone, you know Angelo? Tenacious to the point it is irritating."

Angelo let the insults slid past him. "It is the slayer, isn't it?"

He knew he had hit home when Shadrach's shoulders stiffened, his eyes narrowing even more.

"What if I tell you it isn't?" Shadrach returned carefully.

"I can always get the truth, willingly or by force. Though I hate to do it by the later, I would nonetheless do it if I have to." Angelo said it quietly. Shadrach knew that Angelo, for his entire happy-go-lucky exterior, was a powerful telepath whose prowess exceeded even that of his.

"So?" Angelo prompted gently when silence fell a moment too long.

"Yes, it has to do with her. So what?" He snapped bad-temperedly, feeling cornered.

"Nothing. I promised before that I will never interfere in your affairs, and neither will you in mine and I am not about to change that. However, do take care my friend. The council isn't as blind as you think them to be. If she gets you into trouble, be forewarned that I will not hesitate to bring her in to the council myself." Angelo concluded resuming his slouch as he flashed a smile at Shadrach.

"You are starting to do a good imitation of a possessive boyfriend, Angelo." Only the cutting edge of his tone gave any indication of Shadrach's annoyance at his friend. His face was back into the impassive mask that he showed to his subordinates everyday. It told Angelo that his friend did not appreciate his interference in his matters.

"I can assure you that I am straight, Silverthorn. You can always feel free to ask Druscilla." A flash of that lazy, catlike smile dawned on Angelo's face.

"Your most recent paramour, Angelo?" Shadrach asked dryly.

Angelo let out a snort of amusement before he replied," We use 'lover' nowadays, Silverthorn. God, 'paramour'. That is so 1800s."

Before he could retort though, the door flew open. A semi-conscious vampire limped in, his hand wrapped around his bleeding shoulder where a wooden stake protruded out grotesquely in an attempt to stem the bleeding.

"Sir, the slayers have escaped. All of them." He panted out with obvious exertion before he fell into a dead faint on top of the shattered decanter.


	7. Chapter Six: Christian and Gwenivere

Title: Song of the Siren

Author: Twilightstaruby

Disclaimers: All Night World concepts belongs to L.J.Smith. Kiele and the other characters in the story belong to me.

Thanks to all those who have reviewed for the past few chapters! They were great and a source of motivation for me to write the story...i hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as i have enjoyed writing it...(p.s. this is the longest chapter i have written yet...compliments to those who have told me, many times in fact, that my chapters are too short...; )

**Annad:** The year is set in the current year we are in, which means that Shadrach, or Christian, which ever you like, is only over a hundred years old, which isn't really that ancient at all considering other vampires.

**Dogs die in hot** **cars:** so glad you enjoyed the previous chapter! It is eminent that kiele escapes though...you will find out why later...As for Chryseis, i am sorry to say that its update will have to wait for a while...but it shouldn't take long, since i have finished half of the chapter already.

**Incarnated-soul:** here you go...one whole chunk on their past...hope you like it!

**Dark Angel's Blue Fire:** Thanks for the compliment! and Kiele will find out about Christian/Shadrach...it is just a matter of time before she does...

**Mayhemk( ):** Thanks for the review! I am glad you enjoyed the story!

Author's note: Some of the facts on the NightWorld or vampires may be wrong so please pardon me and my ignorance..also, please don't hesitate to tell me so if you DO find them...also thanks to Dogs die in hot cars for pointing out some of the mistakes i made!

* * *

And her face so fair 

Stirr'd with her dream, as rose leaves with the air.

George Gordon Noel Bryon, Lord Bryon, _Don Juan. Canto iv. Stanza 29._

ChapterSix

Her mind was a jumble of thoughts as she surveyed the dingy motel room they had booked in for the night. Tired and dirty (she was certain she smelled horrible too), she was exhuasted enough not to complain about the lodging. The motel, situated at the edge of town, was really a refuge for people on the run from the Night World. It was the best Eli could do for them at this point of time.

Right now, the only thing they could do was to stay here for the night and pray that Shadrach did not find them out. She was grateful for the fact that all the slayers had made it out alive; that she herself had made it out alive. She had been worried about Kalika, but Eli had assured her that she was in good hands and that she needn't worry about her. Suddenly, Kiele didn't care about the griminess of the room, she was simply too tired and fatigued to bother about it. Everything will be clearer to her after a good night of sleep.

Ignoring the muskiness of the bed, Kiele lay down and willed herself to sleep. It wasn't long before she fell into a deep and fitful sleep.

_The Past, England 1816, London_

_Christian stared broodingly out of his carriage window as it bumped along the road towards the Ashcrofts brightly lit sprawling mansion. He let out a groan and buried his face into his hands at the thought of what awaited him in the Ashcrofts' beautiful ballroom: the entire ton's matriarchs and their marriageable daughters._

_Briefly, he contemplated turning around the entire carriage nut he had promised, or rather, Grayson made him promise that he will turn up and he had never gone back on his promises before. After reaching the conclusion that he could not escape from nor avoid the death trap that awaited him, he let out a litany of colourful curses in several languages that finally ended on a snarl aimed mostly at his best friend of eighteen years._

_By the time the carriage drew up into the Ashcrofts' driveway, Christian had already worked himself into a fine temper and was smoldering with outrage at no one in particular. The footmen eyed him cautiously as they announced his arrival in the ballroom in unison "His Grace, The Duke of Rutherford!"_

_The noisy ballroom seemed to freeze for a moment as Christian started to descend the sprawling stairway. Then whispered and hisses broke across the whole ballroom as anxious mothers gestured indiscreetly at their daughters to "stand up straighter" or "straighten your gown". Christian rolled his eyes in exasperation as the crowd started to surge forward in a huge wave. Spotting Grayson in a far corner of the corner ballroom conversing with a group of bachelors, Christian started to make his way through the crowd with a few polite smiles and greetings._

_When he finally reached Grayson, together with a half of the female population trailing after him, all his friend had to say was, "You are late."_

_"I am here now." Christian returned in a lazy drawl perfected through the years that managed to convey both sarcasm and disgust at the same time._

_"True," Grayson acknowledged nonchalantly as he plucked a flute of champagne off a passing attendant's tray and offered it to Christian. "My wife was despairing of you ever turning up." Christian turned his head in the direction Grayson indicated with a tilt of his champagne glass to see Lady Alexandria, Countess of Langwood, or Alex as she was known to her closest friends and family, bearing down to him with a beatific fake-looking smile, which he was sure was simply put on for the sake of ton._

_He was right. As soon as she was within hearing range of him, her smile dropped and became a displeased frown that marred the otherwise flawless complexion. "You are late." She stated with accusation, annoyance tingeing her voice._

_"Good evening to you too, my lady," Christian murmured, amused as he bowed low over her proffered hand. He looked up to see her emerald eyes dancing with suppressed laughter even though she continued to frown at him._

_"You are late." She persisted._

_"So you keep telling me." Christian sent her a winning smile that would melt the hearts in an instant. Alexandria was no exception._

_A reluctant smile tug at her lips as she rolled her eyes in exasperation, "My mother always said that you could charm the pants off the devil."_

_A snort of laughter that was unsuccessfully muffled burst out from Grayson. Christian, torn between horror and laughter, didn't even bother to dignify that with a reply._

_"Come," Alex linked her arm through Christian's, " there is someone I would like you to meet. She is the loveliest young-" As Alex continued her list on the girl's attributes, Christian sent a pleading look to Grayson, who simply smiled and wave to him before turning back to his group of friends._

_Christian started listing the things he would like to do to his best friend of twenty years, wringing Grayson's neck being at the top of his list, whilst keeping a congenial smile on his face as Alex dragged him through the crowd, stopping only occasionally to exchanging greetings with acquaintances. The fact that more than half the female population trailed after them didn't seem to bother Alex. Unbothered, she continued her relentless trail towards a twittering group of young females at the side of the ballroom._

_Panic welled up in volumes as Christian tried to pull himself from Alex's death grip on his arm. The last thing he needed was to be surrounded by marriageable young misses with fluff for brians and characters akin to cats(they were nothing if not spiteful, conniving and devious)and endless conversation on the weather, clothes and Almack's. It was, if nothing, a bachelors worse nightmare come true._

_"Alex!" he hissed, trying to jerk out of her iron grasp," Stop!"_

_If anything, her grip tightened and without a pause, she steered him directly towards them. Alex, for all her deceptively small figure, possessed strength equal to an ox. _

_Alex, heedless to his protesting, called out merrily, "Miss Thornton!"_

_The crowd seemingly parted like the Red Sea in Moses, revealing a stunning young debunate in a simple yet elegant pale blue silk evening gown, her pale golden tresses piled in an elegant coiffure. _

_Christian froze. Surely it was a coincidence. _

_It was most unlikely. _

_His polite society smile turned into a full-fledge grin as he looked straight into the startling violet eyes of one lady Gwenivere Sophia Thornton_.

* * *

_Mortification, horror and dozens of other emotions came to live in Gwenivere as she meet the amused grey eyes of Christian Gabriel Shadrach Claymore, Duke of Rutherford. He was impeccable, looking handsome as sin in his simple yet elegant black evening kit, which was a contrast to the brightly colored evening kits, which many of the other men donned. It made him stood out among the crowd like a hawk among the many colored peacocks._

_And there was something else. He looked…dangerous. Yes that was the word: Dangerous. He was everything every matchmaking mama would dream of having as a son-in-law. As a duke, he held one of the highest and privileged positions in the British society. And his immense wealth didn't hurt either. Coupled with his extremely good looks, he was indeed the catch of the season. It was no surprise that the unwedded female population (and some wedded) was lusting after him._

_Before she realized what was happening, he was in front of her, his handsome face grinning down at her as though he found the sight of her amusing. Inexplicable fury rose in her and she struggled to keep her composure. There was no way she was going to let this infuriating man destroy her cousin's coming out season, no way at all. His grin widened as though he sensed her inner turmoil and her losing battle with her fury._

_In one smooth movement, he was in front of her, all elegance and smiles. Picking up her limp hand, gloved this time, he placed a kiss on her knuckles and greeted her cordially with a flourished bow, " My lady."_

_Snatching her hand back, she glared at him. She was certain that he had done that on purpose to remind her of her faux pas. The infuriating smile that told her he knew and intended it that way of reminding her. Damn the man. Deciding that two can play at that game too, she suppressed her anger and offered him a cool smile and a curtsey that was flawless in its execution. Meeting his storm-lie gaze once again as she rose up, she was startled by the admiration and…something else she saw in his expression but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared and the amusement was back once again._

_Her brow furrowing into a small frown, she tried to make out what it was that she had seen in his gaze. So absorb she was in trying to decipher it that she jumped slightly when lady Alexandria's voice broke through them with a surprised and speculative tone," You two know each other? How did you meet?"_

_If Gwenivere didn't know better, she would have said the the Countess looked almost pleased when she said that. _

_Gwenivere shifted her gaze to the tall and elegant Countess of Langwood who was looking from her to Christian with a speculative look in her eyes that made Gwenivere feel vaguely uncomfortable. Before she could answer_ _though, Christian smoothly said on her behalf, a slightly mischievous smile lingering on the side of his lips, " We met while I was out riding Black Fury. She was having difficulty with her…mare, which was spooked by an animal."_

_Gwenivere didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the blatant lie he was fabricating out of nowhere. _

_Gwenivere didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the blatant lie he was fabricating out of nowhere to the poor unsuspecting Countess. So, to protect her reputation ('Twas not at all proper to be alone in the woods with a man well known as a rake, even though they didn't do anything unseemly. Moreover, she had gone there against her father's wishes.), she simply smiled, amidst a bit forcefully, for the to compellation speak the truth always was deeply ingrained in her. It had never been in her nature to tell a single lie (okay, maybe a few white lies occasionally), nor does she abide people who tell them liberally. _

_However, she knew she had no other way out. So she kept mum as the Duke, in his smooth and mesmerizing baritone, related the tale of their fictitious meeting to the poor Countess of Langwood. The tale was told with such conviction that even she herself almost believed it herself. Almost. _

_"…And I saw her safely home. Right, Miss Thornton?" Christian's abrupt address of her startled her. _

_Bemused, the words, " You did?" slipped out before she could do anything. _

_In the silence that followed, Gwenivere felt panic and horror rose up in her as she watch the Countess's expression became suspicion as she looked from Gwenivere to Christian. She stole a look up at the Duke, who, in contrary to looking furious at her, was in fact looking as though he was trying desperately not to laugh. _

_"Are you lying to me?" the Countess's voice was heavy with suspicion, her emerald eyes flashed as she glared at Christian and Gwenivere in turn. _

_As if on cue, the strains for a waltz started up in the background, softly lilting and enchanting. Immediately, seeing a way out of the mess they heading into, the Duke turned to Gwenivere, extending his palm to her in a smooth gesture," May I have this dance, my lady?" _

_Without waiting fir a reply or for her to agree, he took her by her arm and steered her into the increasing crowd of dancing couples waltzing to the music with an "Excuse us." to his the Countess for good measure. _

_With her arm safely, and firmly captive by his iron grip of a grasp, Gwenivere had no choice but to follow him docilely onto the dance floor and dance. To pull her hand out from his grasp or to walk away from him now would only cause a scandal, which was the last thing she wanted to happen on the night of her cousin's first season. _

_That reminded her of something: scanning the crowd, she found Hanna easily, her cousin's slight figure was dancing gracefully, her long wheat colored hair pinned up in an elegant coiffure. She was stunning with her immense grey eyes, smooth skin and clear complexion. The only thing that marred it was a faint, pink birthmark slanted on her cheekbone. Even with that, nothing was unable to detract the radiant beauty she emitted with ease. _

_She smiled contentedly. At least she was enjoying herself. Then she saw Hanna's dancing partner. Her smile turned into a full-fledged frown as she glared at the offending man. Viscount Carstairs, though handsome, was a man who was reputed to be a rake through and through, who went through women like one goes through a bottle of water. Even the ton was unable to keep track of the number of women he had gone through. He was hardly someone she wanted Hanna to be associated with.Apparently, Gwenivere's brother had the same idea, for he was heading towards them with purpose in his step and expression. Even as she watched, her brother skillfully intervened in the dance with a genial yet firm smile on his face and eased Hanna away. _

_"Is dancing with me such a torture?" A note of censure was in his tone as he asked her. _

_Startled, Gwenivere turned back to her forgotten and silent partner. _

_"I beg your pardon, your grace?" _

_"You are frowning." He said as a form of explanation. _

_"Oh." She didn't realize she was still frowning until he mentioned it. Quickly, least he was offended, she explained apologetically," I wasn't frowning at you, your grace. I was looking out for my cousin, who is having her coming out season today and I saw something that wasn't…well, to my liking." _

_Laughter tingeing his tone, he asked," May it be possible for you to tell me what is it that isn't to your liking?" _

_"Viscount Carstairs," Gwenivere said with disgust evident in her voice. _

_"Ah…I see. Now that we have cleared up and dismissed the theory that dancing with me is a torture, please smile. People are looking." _

_Gwenivere smiled at the disgruntled tone as he muttered the last sentence. _

_"What do you expect, your grace? You are dancing with me." She said as a form of explanation._

_"What is that supposed to mean? What is wrong with you?" He frowned at her. _

_"It is just that I am a nobody-" Before she could finish, Christian cut her off, anger blazing in the depths of his silver gaze. _

_"Don't say that. You are never a nobody," He snapped," You are...you. Unique." He added after a moment of consideration._

_Touched, Gwenivere smiled up at him, her violet eyes twinkling. "But that is just it, Your Grace. You are, after all, the catch of the season and a duke. And, as you have so kindly pointed out, I amme,a second daughter of a Earl, hardly worthy of a man with your wealth and status. People in the ton don't care much for what is within, Your grace. They only see what is on the outside and your status." _

_"Then the people who think like that are idiots.Catch of the season," he muttered with disgust in his tone, "I sound like a damn fish. And stop calling me 'Your grace'. Christian will do. 'Your grace' makes me think of old wizened men with quizzing glass." _

_She couldn't help it: She laughed. _

_Her laugh was infectious. Soon, Christian was grinning back at her, "Bad form, my dear, to laugh at your dancing_ _partner. Besides," he leaned forward to whisper c_onspiratorially, _" people are starting to look." _

_With some difficulty, she reined in her laughter, but telltale signs of her mirth remained in her twinkling violet eyes and the curve of her luscious mouth, as did the laughter remain in his storm-like gaze. _

_So they remained like that for the rest of the dance, laughing at each other silently with their eyes as they spun to the beautiful strains of the waltz. Little did they suspect that their lives would change drastically in a few days' time. _

* * *

Author's note: Sorry this is so abrupt...didn't really have time to finish this up properly...i promise i will do so at the fastest time possible, but for the moment, please put up with me! thanks! oh...pls remember to to press the pretty review button beforeyou go! Hahaha...:p 


	8. Chapter Seven: Perhaps, just perhaps, th...

Title: Song of the Siren

Author: Twilightstaruby

Disclaimers: All Night World concepts belongs to L.J.Smith. Kiele and the other characters in the story belong to me.

Author's notes: Sorry this took so long! I was trying to juggle my school work and Song of the Siren at the same time...hopefully, this chapter doesn't drag.

Special thanks to the people who have given all those awesome reviews! Three cheers for all of you!

**Dogs die in hot cars**: Glad you like Christian as much asI do, but I can't sayI am adverse to the current Shadrach. After all, he does have a certain appeal as well, as least, to me he does. You will have to read on to find out about whether they will be soulmates in the end though, unfortuantelyI can't tell you much at this point of time since evenI don't know where the story is heading.I seem to have lost control of the plot(sheepish look)

**scary miss mary**: Thanks for reviewing! I hope you will enjoy this chapter as well!

**incarnated-soul**: On the matter of Gwen, she is after all a second daughter of an earl, meaning she wont be a heiress and might be in lack of money if her father chooses notto provide her with a dowry. Coldblooded and calculating as it may sound, men at that time would usually go for woman with high status in the society or are heiresses. this way, they will be able to increase their holdings and money. Men with noble titles,like Christian, who is a duke, usually marry women(heiresses) who have holdings and titles of their own. At least, all this is from my understanding of that era.

**Annad**: Sorry about the previous chapters being too short!But personally, i dislike long chapters as it is very tiring to read. Besides, having short chapters means i can update more frequently. But i'll try my best. : ) Does it really remind you of Pride and Prejudice? i have never really read the book in detail, but it seemed a really interesting book by appearances i must say, as compared to other stories written at that time.

**Dark Angel's Blue Fire**: haha...hope i didn't make you wait very long...glad you are enjoying yourself(grins). I am enjoying myself too...

Author's note: There is something i have to clear up. I just realise i have been spelling Shadrach's surname wrongly for **all** the previous chapters! It is spelled as 'Silverthorne' with a 'e', and not 'Silverthorn'. A thousand apologies!

* * *

That which we look on with unselfish **love **

And true humility is surely ours,

Even as a lake looks at the stars above

And makes within itself a heaven of stars

-**Mary Gardiner Brainard(1837-1905)**

Chapter Seven 

"Imbeciles!" Shadrach snarled as he hurled the priceless Ming vase, which only had the misfortune of being conveniently on a stand beside him, into the wall with a deafening crash. His secretary, unfortunate enough to be in Shadrach's presence winced as the vase shattered, while he mentally counted the impact it will have on the Silverthorn's immense fortune. Deciding it wouldn't have much impact, he made a note to replace it.

All that changed in the next moment when he saw the Monet Shadrach held in his hands. Darting forward with the intention to save the irreplaceable painting, he cried out in panic," No! Not the!"

The painting went sailing over his head and into the wall where it splintered and smashed onto the ground below, joining the remains of the vase.

"-Monet." The witch finished miserably, dismal evident in his eyes. He walked over to the painting and dourly plucked the torn painting gingerly out of the splintered frame.

Simmering with anger, Shadrach clenched his jaw and glared out of the full-length glass window that occupied fully one of the walls of the immense library. The sight of the palatial garden that spread out for acres across the land appeased him slightly and calmed him down, though not enough to diminished his anger.

Damnit! He had not expected them to escape so easily, taking down one-fifth of his people in the process. But then, he had been distracted by the appearance of the reincarnation of the only woman he had ever loved. Thinking rapidly, he calculated the distance the slayers would be able to cover. Not much, seeing that they only had a few hours lead. Making up his mind, he turned around, giving the witch instructions to gather his most powerful assassins.

"Still in a snit, Silverthorn?" Angelo drawled as he appraised the damage, having entered the room after the secretary left the room. "Poor guy looked as though he was going to cry over a torn drawing he held in his arms like a baby which I believe is, no-**was** a Monet." He jerked a thumb towards the open doorway, where his secretary could still be seen.

"I am never in a snit, Angelo." His tone was acidic as he picked up a glass of whiskey that stood solitary on his desk. "I believe you were the one who had them."

"Moi?" Angelo adopted a sad, puppy-eyed look, "How can you say something like that about me? I don't **have** snits. They come naturally to me."

Shadrach let out a snort of derisive laughter.

"You never did carry off that act of innocence well, Angelo."

"You wound me, my friend." Angelo clutched his chest in mock agony, swaying slightly in his position for good measure.

"I didn't realize hearts are located on the right side of a human's chest, Angelo. The least you could do is to get that right" Shadrach said drily.

"Oops." Angelo gave a sheepish grin, "But then, technically, I am not a human. So, you can't really blame me for that faux pas."

"Technically, you are a walking, talking, **irritating** corpse that live on human blood."

Angelo snorted as he flung himself carelessly into one of the cushioned settees that were placed in front of the fireplace, "Speak for yourself, Silverthorn. You ain't exactly any different from me, you know."

"Unfortuantely, being irritating is not one of my more pronounced traits." Shadrach said loftily, downing the glass of whiskey in one go.

"Yeah, I would agree. Bossy and high-handed are more accurate." Lazily, Angelo slanted him an azure-tinted gaze, the light-hearted tone turning serious all of a sudden, "They would not have enough time to go far. It is only a matter of time before we caught up with them."

Caught off guard by the sudden change of topic, Shadrach did not say anything. After a moment's silence, he said in an almost thoughtful manner, "I underestimated their ability and connections. But it is a mistake I will make only once. The next time they wouldn't get away so easily," he added deliberately," and they will pay for what they have done."

The light rap had both vampires turning around to find Shadrach's secretary standing there, "They have arrived, sir."

"Good. Send them in." Shadrach put down the empty glass on the surface of the glass table and sat down on the settee opposite Angelo, who eyed him with a curious look.

"Who are the 'they'?"

"The D'Ary twins."

Angelo's eyes flashed with something that looked like surprise. But he didn't voice out anything, simply shrugged and said in an off-handed tone, "Your choice, boss. But I am coming along."

* * *

Kiele let herself into the leased apartment she had been living in for the past few days. Not bothering to switch on the lights, she made her way to the kitchen to put down the bags of groceries she carried in her arms. After removing the load, she moved back to the living room and stood admiring the amazing view Las Vegas, city of the night, had to offer. Through the floor-length window that graced the tiny living room, the neon lights that were so in abundance in Las Vegas shone through with usual their vibrancy and brightness, providing the dark room with ample enough light. 

It had been five long days. Five long days since they had made their escape from Shadrach Silverthorne's dungeons. Five days since that awful confrontation she had with Shadrach. Five days since he had rejected her. But then, who is counting?

You are, a little voice informed her drolly.

God. She could start to learn to hate the letter 'five'.

Five days since the slayers had scattered, all hiding, separated from their families and estranged from their lives. She hated this, this fugitive excuse of a life they were leading. She had not wanted to do this, slayers never run from anything ever. But Eli had begged her, to consider Kalika, who was now under someone else's care, and for his sake. So she had given in, albeit reluctantly.

She hated this. And she hated the fiend that caused it all and represented it: Shadrach Silverthorne. He who was her nemesis, he who stood for everything she hate and he who was, no is her soulmate. She was certain of it, that he was her soulmate. She didn't know how she knew, but deep down, it was as if her soul recognized him; she knew he was her soulmate, the missing part of her that had bothered her so. It sounded crappy and foolish, even to her; but it was true. She knew he was the one, and his rejection still hurt, horribly.

"Damn you, Shadrach Silverthorne."

"Don't I know it. After all, I **have** been damned for the past century or so. Hello Gwenivere. Or shouldI say Kiele." An amused voice stated from the general direction of her bedroom.

She froze. That voice. Shadrach Silverthorne. He had found her. How he had done that she wasn't sure, but she hadn't doubt that he would find her. No matter how carefully they had covered their tracks, Shadrach, she knew, had wider connections and underdogs than all the slayers in the world added together. And he was perceptive as hell; but then living for a century or so usually does that to a person. Sorry, make that a walking, talking corpse who happened to be her bloody soulmate.

She turned around, already reaching behind her to draw out her dagger, which was strapped to her thigh, ninja style. What she had not anticipated was the speed at which he was able to move. Before she could even reach the dagger, she felt a presence. Then he was suddenly in front of her, his hand closing over her dagger and with a deceptively easy flick of his wrist, the dagger flew in a perfect arc over his shoulder and embedded into the wall, the hilt quivering from the impact.

Trying to maneuver away from him, she twisted. His hands clamped down on her shoulders, forcing her remain in that very disturbingly close position to him. She could hear the dull thudding of her traitorous heart, could feel the heat stealing up in her.

"What is the matter, Kiele? Afraid?" His silky voice brush over her, making her shiver. Then the words hit her and righteous anger filled her. She would never, never be afraid of him. She tilted her head back, intending to tell him that, but all she got was a glimpse of his smothering silver-tinted gaze before his mouth crushed down bruisingly on hers.

* * *

Author's note: Opps...hehe...didn't mean to leave it there, and sorry it is so short. I promise it would be longer next time...promise...

Review, review...thanks!


	9. Chapter Eight: Discovery

Title: Song of the Siren

Author: Twilightstaruby

Disclaimers: All Night World concepts belongs to L.J.Smith. Kiele and the other characters in the story belong to me.

Author's notes: Hey people! Thanks for the awesome review you guys gave! Love you all! Muacks! Hahahahaha...

**untilhellfreezesover:** hey! long time no see! nice to see you again though...glad you think that my writing is getting better. I was hoping it wasn't deteriorating...and (so sue me) I do like cliff-hangers...it adds more spice to an otherwise bland story...haha...oh and by the way, i _am _writing on a story on Angelo...am working on it now. Have to say it is going quite smoothly...but that is all i am going to say about it!

**Dogs die in hot cars:** Haha...so sorry to keep you in suspense! I didn't have much time to spare, too much school work...i actually wanted to post a much longer, much much _much_ longer chapter(someone told me before that my chapters were too short) but i couldn't seem to find the time to finish it and it seemed to me an update was long over due(ppl might come after me, wanting my blood), so i cut the chapter short and posted it until where i had stopped. haha...you can take the previous chapter as a teaser...here is the real stuff! hope you will enjoy it! Btw, i have almost finished the next chapter for Chryseis, so you can look forward to that too!

**Annad: **Sorry the previous chapter was so short...I realised that myself...hehe...hope this chapter is longer and more to your liking!

**incarnated-soul:** I like Angelo too...really enjoyed writing about his character(smiles)...(By the way, i am writing a story on Angelo...it will be out after Song of the Siren is finished...which might take a long _**long **_time...advertising...lol) As for the many question still yet to be unanswered, i have to say read on...and you will find out...haha...sorry...some of the questions will be answered in this chapter...or the next...Hope you will enjoy!

**Setus:** Hey gal! Thanks for complaining...haha...really...it will be longer this time...in fact, it _is_ longer...didn't realise that you would do it directly after you got home though...so fast and efficient (grins)...lol...maybe next time should harass you to review more...haha...

**Dark Angel's Blue Fire: **Not really such a long wait isn't it? And it is longer than ever before. : )

**MerlinHalliwell:** Thanks for reviewing! really appreciate that you took the time to do it and hope you will enjoy this chapter as well!

**IceAngel3:** i have always loved historical romances and cannot get enough of them. As I was planning the story, I thought maybe i could incorporate some of those scenes into the story itself...I really had a great time writing them and i am so glad you enjoyed reading them!

**Mental Twitch 'Sh33r's: **Sorry about the 'mystery'shrouding the whole story...i am obliged to tell you that i can only say that annoying little phrase that we authors like to use: all will soon be revealed! Hahaha...finally my turn to say it...no really...is there really alot of tense errors in the story? Because usually, i post the chapters directly after i finished them and leave the grammer and spelling to my trusty Microsoft Words programme, which unfortuantely appears to be failing me...oh well...I will get around to those in the meantime...thanks for pointing it out!(smiles)Meanwhile, enjoy the next chapter(i hope)

**babe in black: **sorry about the delay...had a few problems with the plot and was trying to sort out the tangle i had gotten myself into(all the above questions Mental Twitch 'Sh33r's had pointed out to me previously)...well here it is...Chapter eight: Discovery

Author's notes: You know what? I could get use to this, all this ego-boosting reviews...joking, joking really... You people have been great, a constant in my usually dreary life and a motivation for me to continue writing...Please do point out any mistakes or anything you do not like...i'll try to do my best and change it...until then, please read on...Oh...and review...until then, i would like to say a big big thank you to all of you out there, whether you have reviewed or not!

* * *

Chapter Eight: Discovery

Here 's a sigh to those who love me,  
_And a smile to those who hate;_  
And whatever sky 's above me,  
_Here 's a heart for every **fate**. _

George Gordon Noel Byron, Lord Byron (1788-1824), _To Thomas Moore._

_The Past, London 1816_

_"Gwen? Gwen! What is the matter with you?" Hanna, her cousin's exasperated voice finally broke through Gwen's self-induced reverie as she stared without really looking out of the moving carriage's window with a pensive frown on her face. Hanna, who had come to live with them at a tender age of six since her parents' deaths, was as close to Gwen as sisters._

_"What is what with me?" She frowned absently at her cousin, who threw her hands up into the air with a cry, "I swear, you will be the death of me!"_

_"No, I won't. Gregory will." Gwen replied with a cheeky grin as she made the slight on her older brother. In her opinion, no one could be more irritating than her brother when he is set on protecting her virtues even if there was nothing to protect. His chosen method of protection would be following them around like an overly worried mother hen. It was, to say the least, most irritating and secondly, scaring off all the potential suitors._

_"Point acceded." Hanna's voice was grumpy as she complained, "You would think there is a pervert waiting around every corner from the way he follows me around. The only time he would ever let me out of my sight is when I go to Almack's for the evening or if I have to go to the lavatory."_

_"Even Gregory has limits."_

_A wicked grin lit her face as she confided in Hanna, "You wouldn't get him into Almack's even with a pistol pointed at his back. I believe that applies to all men jaded enough in the ways of the society." Gwen added thoughtfully as an after thought._

_They looked at each other in silence then switched their gazes to Gregory, whose head of golden blond hair was clearly visible through the tiny carriage window that allowed the driver speech-access to his passengers before bursting into peals of laughter._

_With the uncanny intuition of a sibling to a sibling, Gregory opened up the tiny window and frowned at them suspiciously, emerald eyes piercing as he asked, "Are you two talking behind my back?"_

_When Hanna shook her head frantically while choking on her laughter and Gwen simply burst out into more laughter again, he glared at them, "I'll get it out of you when we reach home."_

_When that parting threat, he closed the window with a sharp little snap, an irate little movement promising of the tortures to come in the near future. He was short of temper recently, having to deal with both Hanna's out-coming season and the matters of Trenworth vast estates, seeing now that their father was too ill to continue his usual overseeing of the administrative matters he usually take in hand._

_But Gwen wasn't worried. Growing up with Gregory made her known of the fact that Gregory has a quick temper that would lash out viciously if provoked, but it has also led insight into his character that while quick to flare, the flame that was Gregory's temper was also quick to die. He was a loving and loyal brother who would give his life for his sister no matter how much he had complained about the burden Gwen was to him and one Gwen would, in turn, lay her life down for. Thus, she was certain that by the time Gregory got home, he would be back to his usual cheery self and would have forgotten about the whole thing._

_"So." The single ominous word had her looking warily at Hanna, who was looking at her with a speculative look in her wide grey eyes. "Can I say that it is a he?"_

_She choked. "What are you talking about?"_

_"The man who had you gazing off into blank space and sighing wistfully-"_

_"I did not sigh wistfully!" Gwen cried out in horror._

_"Okay, you did not. So it is a he." Hanna's eyes were shrewd and knowing as she leaned back into her seat with a half-smile playing on her lips. Gwen knew, from experience there was no arguing with Hanna or distracting her when she was in this mood. So she had no choice but to go with the truth. She nodded reluctantly._

_Gwen's answer obviously pleased Hanna whose mouth formed a little 'o' of delight as she digested the little piece of information._

_"Would it be that oh-so-sinfully-handsome man who was danced with you two times?" Hanna asked as she leaned forward, her grey eyes sparkling with anticipation and mischief._

_"Hanna!" Gwen cried out, scandalized. "And besides, many men danced with me twice."_

_"True." Hanna acceded, "but none was as handsome as him. The tall man, dark-haired with grey eyes with a smile that would melt your knees upon its appearance and so smitten by you."_

_Gwen could only think of one man that fitted the description right down to the last detail. Christian Gabriel Shadrach Claymore, the Duke of Rutherford. Exactly whom she had in her thoughts before Hanna had interrupted her so rudely._

_"I see I have hit the mark," Hanna's grey eyes widened in delight," So who is he?"_

_Seeing no way out, Gwen reluctantly supplied the answer Hanna wanted," The Duke of Rutherford."_

_Her jaw dropped. "A Duke? Heavens, Gwen."_

_Then her eyes lit up," I think you might have a chance after all. After all, he was rather besotted with you. He didn't dance with anyone after you, just stood at the sides looking at you."_

_Gwen knew that. After all, she was looking at him half the time she was dancing with the other men. Not that she was going to admit that. Even to her cousin._

_"He did?" She asked, her expression carefully neutral. Deftly, she switched the topic with a teasing," What about you? Anyone caught your fancy?"_

_Hanna blushed, giving Gwen her answer._

_"Ah, who is the lucky guy?" Gwen grinned, relief at the change of topic. She wasn't certain of how she felt about one Christian Gabriel Shadrach Claymore. Her feelings for him currently ranged from confusion to liking. He was a very charming man, and handsome (no arguments there), yet there was an underlying complexity under that cool and unbothered society shell he put on. She simply didn't know what to think about him._

_Pulling her thoughts away from the disturbing Duke of Rutherford, she turned her attention to her cousin, who still had not answered her question._

_"Hanna?" Gwen prompted, her eyes searching Gwen's face questionably._

_"He…he said his name was Thierry. Thierry Descoudres. He is a foreigner. He just came here from France." Hanna's blush deepened as she continued, "You might think me silly but I felt as though I was somehow…bonded to him. That I seemed to know him from another place, another time. " The dreamy look that had came to her eyes when she spoke of her Mr Descoudres flitted away when she_ _remembered Gwen's presence. She darted a gaze up at Gwen. _

_Now, it was her turn to be silent. Gwen studied her cousin's flaming and embarrassed face and came to the startling realization she had been trying to avoid: Hanna was in love. And she was petrified for her cousin's sake. She did know whom her cousin was talking about. _

_Mr Descoudres was the talk of the town when he came here the week before his return from France. 'A tall, handsome and enigmatic French man' was one of the phrases used to describe the wealthy stranger that had every female in the town sighing after him. She heard from the ton's ever-vigilant grapevine that he had been traveling all over the world before he came back to London. No one really knew what background he had come from; neither did he appear to have any family or friends here in London. _

_Even though there was no mention of him being a rake or a womanizer, still Gwen was worried for Hanna. She had seen and heard enough of men like Thierry Descoudres who could never settle down or stay faithful with or to one woman. Their urge to travel was simply too great. _

_She bit her lip before she answered slowly," I am not sure about Thierry Descoudres. But," She added quickly as Hanna's face fell," it is your life, Hanna. I will support you because I trust your judgment." Finished, she reached over and took Hanna's hands in her. _

_"Thank you, Gwen." Hanna sniffled, touched. She drew out her handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes, a watery smile appearing, bringing out the dimple hidden at the corner of her mouth. _

_"What are cousins for?" Gwen teased, feeling a little teary herself. At this moment, the carriage came to a halt and before they could compose themselves, the carriage door was flung open by a disgruntled Gregory," Come, let us-" _

_He stopped, just having noticed the shimmer of tears in Hanna's eyes. Immediately, a mask of concern appeared as he inquired in a worried tone," What is it? It is that Thierry Descoudres right? I'll kill him!" _

_Gwen hurriedly stopped Gregory before he could storm over to wherever the innocent man lived and wrung Thierry Descoudres' life out of him, " We were just…um…a little emotional today." _

_"Did I get you right?" Gregory blinked at them, disbelief evident in his tone, " You are crying because of no reason?" He enunciated each word slowly, as though speaking to a pair of delinquent children. _

_"Not really for no reason. She was just touched by the fact um…that I am well…her cousin." Gwen smiled sheepishly at Gregory, who looked as though he couldn't believe he had just heard. _

_"You," He looked pointedly at Hanna," cried because she" he jabbed a finger in Gwen's direction," was your cousin and you were overwhelmed because of it." _

_"Now that he put it that way, I do feel a little silly." Hanna admitted shamefacedly to Gwen, who was having a hard time trying not to laugh at the expression of disgust and incredulity on her brother's face. _

_Gregory suddenly turned on his heels and marched up to the house, all the while muttering something about the foolishness of women in general under his breath, leaving his sister and cousin to follow behind, trailing laughter behind them. _

* * *

_'Two **soul**s with but a single thought,  
Two hearts that beat as one.'_

_Von Münch Bellinghausen (1806-1871),_ Ingomar the Barbarian. Act ii.

The Present, Las Vegas 

There were no sparks. Nor was there a sudden-mind blowing connection or a pink haze when he touched her, as it would have been if they were soulmates. Nada. Just sensations, an overwhelming amount of them that keep assailing her senses. Yet there was a sense of completion, as though she was whole once more. As though some part of her soul, missing until now had returned to her. A gentle fusing of mind and soul.

Not soulmates. Then what is this?

She could see the same question in Shadrach's silver-tinted eyes even as she herself wondered about it as they broke apart, both panting slightly and eyeing each other warily, not knowing what had just happened between them.

"What," Shadrach gritted out between clenched teeth," did _you_ do?"

Incredulous, Kiele stared back at him," What did _I_ do? You were the one who _kissed_ me in case you have forgotten!"

"I haven't," He glowered back at her with silver eyes that had darkened to obsidian," But I didn't do _that_."

There was no mistaking what he meant by the emphasis. Kiele felt obliged to protest her innocence," Neither did I. I am a slayer, godamit, a _human_. And I would rather bond with Hunter Redfern than with you."

He glared at her," I didn't do it."

Getting tired of this meaningless banter, she snapped," Well, prove it."

Not really the smartest of all answers, she realized now as a thunderous expression materialized on his face. She had been expected him to strike her or kill her, now that she was weaponless and defenseless. But she had not expected his sort and curt reply.

"Fine."

She barely had time to register the significance of his answer before his mouth once again descended on her lips. Emotions, both wanted and unwanted, rose up in her. There it was again. The sense of completion.

"Well, this is interesting. You were supposed to be killing her, not kissing her, boss."

The mild statement had the effect of a gunshot. Both of them sprang apart from each other as fast as they could, their heads turned towards the lone lamia that had interrupted them, who gifted them both with a blinding smile.

Angelo.

* * *

**Author's notes: **By the by, Almack's is an exclusive place where all young ladies sought to go and 'ruled' by seven highborn ladies. The wednesday night balls hosted there are exceptionally dull with bad refreshments (watered down sour lemonade, tea, brea, stale cake etc) and strict rules and discipline yet entry to this exclusive place(by form of vouchers)was sought after by every ambitious match-making mama and their fresh-out-of-the-schoolroom-and-eager-for-marriage daughters because it was a place where advantagous marriages could be made. It was also a place where 'jaded' bachelors avoid religiously because of all the above reasons and because, at least _I _think,there was no spirits(wine, whiskey) allowed in those places.

I am sorry if this isn't up to my usual standards or if the characters seem to be breaking out of character. I will make amendment soon. I am just a little tired and disorientated recently...all explanations on Kiele and Shadrach's uniqu relationship will be made clear by the next chapter...

**I would like to ask for suggestions to the title of Angelo's story(yes, he will have a story), which will be put up after or (maybe before) Song of the Siren is finished and it is a sequel to SOTS. Currently, it is named Tears of the Moon, which sounds well...okay bordering on cheesy to me...so please help me think of a nice name! Thanks...**

Hope you enjoyed that! Review and i'll make you my eternal idol : )


	10. Chapter Nine, Complications part one

Chapter Nine: Complications (part one)

Author: Twilightstaruby

**Author note:** I am alive! No, I really am. See, I updated, a very sign of life. Hahaha...sorry about the late update. As incarnated-soul so kindly pointed out, I got distracted. Again. By none other than Amethyst, my first story ever to be posted online. The plot has been changed rather dramatically though, as it is now set in Hellewise, Maya and Theorn's(OoOooo...) time and how Maya powers and vampirism came about. I am going to have fun writing about that...hehehe...but don't hold your breath while waiting for the next chapter for Amethyst; you might suffocate to death. No really, I am really bogged down by junior college life and homework. Lots and lots of homework. Ugh. My holidays are turning into unofficial school days.

Now to address my reviewees:

**Mental Twitch 'Sh33r's:** Sorry about the tensey thing I keep doing...I really have no idea that I do that...It seems that my words don't seem to have a grammer and tense check...Gwak. I think I need a beta-reader...

**tracing-tt: **I feel really guilty about not updating soon...And I am glad you like the flashbacks! I had a great time writing them...

**incarnated-soul: **A woman indeed...hmmm...haha...I think I am going to pair Gregory up with someone he is completely unable to deal with...that should put some spice in his story... ; )

**Dogs die in hot cars: **I am (still) trying to finish up Chryseis's new chapter...hehe..part of the problem is that i am stuck and is not sure how to continue...Thanks for saying all those nice things! I am really glad Hanna is not out of character...I had a really difficult time planning and contemplating the things she would be saying...

**angel rules:** Thank you sooooooo much : )

**annoymous reviewer:** I have my reasons even though six months is a tad too long... : P

As for my _dearest_ friend **Setus:** This entry is longer than the previous one. Much, much _much _**Much **longer : )

**A/N: This is only part one of this chapter. Part two will hopefully be up soon...Partly, the reason why this chapter was split into was the fact that there was simply too much to squeeze into one chapter.. please understand.. there is also the fact that my computer crashed down on me and died...sob**

* * *

Men fear **death** as children fear to go in the dark; and as that natural fear in children is increased with tales, so is the other. _Of **Death**._

-Francis Bacon (1561-1626)

Chapter Nine

"Angelo," The word escaped from Shadrach's mouth before he could stop himself, more out of surprise than anything else.

"Angelo?" Surprise and dawning realization made Kiele's statement sound like a question.

"Angelo." Angelo confirmed irritably with a roll of his sapphire eyes as he straightened with predatory grace from his relaxed and lazy position against the doorframe until he was standing and facing them directly, arms crossed over his chest casually.

Silence fell. Kiele's brain was screaming at her to _Get out! Be anywhere but here! _But her feet seemed to have been rooted into the ground and her body frozen. Oh god, she was stuck in the same room with one of the most feared lamias of all: Angelo.

Angelo. His name was one that was feared by slayers and Nightworlders alike, for he killed with no reason. It was said that he had massacred a whole clan of werewolves in one single night by his own, thus earning him the name: The Angel of Death. He was rampant throughout England in the eighteenth and nineteenth century, killing all that came across his paths, even his own people were not spared. But, at the start of the twentieth century, he disappeared without a trace. Some speculated he was on the run from a more powerful vampire; some thought that he was dead, killed by slayers.

Kiele thought not.

Here he was, standing in front of her, a real-life evidence of his existence. His piercing icy blue eyes boring into her and Shadrach with a force that made her want to run for cover. Only her pride and the slayer in her forced her to look straight into his eyes without flinching away, or trying not to anyway, from the force of it.

From the way he had addressed Shadrach, it would appear that he was working for him. She darted a look at Shadrach, who was looking as though he would rather be anywhere than here. Angelo looked as though he didn't care, but there was an underlying anger beneath the amused façade he was putting on that she could detect. Obviously, he wasn't pleased with what he had just observed.

_Well, neither am I!_ She wanted to scream at him. She was sharing an unwanted only-God-knows-what bond with a leech, the one breed that she had sworn to rid the world of to make it a better place. But then again, on second thoughts, God might not want to have anything to do with _him_.

But, judging from the looks of it all, Kiele did not appear to be having any advantage in this very uncomfortable situation. Her only escape was blocked Angelo; she was certain if she tried hide in her room, the very solid oak door will give way in seconds under the assault of two very angry lamias. She eyed the full-length window next and gave an involuntary shudder.

It was a horrifying five stories drop straight down, directly into the congested streets of Las Vegas, the city of the Night. She preferred not to die such a messy death, thank you very much. Also, not to mention there was a very solid and dangerous Shadrach Silverthorn and an equally dangerous and angry Angelo in the room whom she was certain would kill her in without a qualm, soulmate or not, should she try to escape.

So, that left her with only one choice: the dagger.

Even that wasn't much of a choice. The dagger was embedded far too deeply into the wall to be extricated out; half the hilt was into the wall. Damn Shadrach Silverthorn and his vampire strength.

The way she saw it, she did not really have anyway out except through her demise, which wasn't far behind judging from the acidic looks Angelo was casting in her direction. Her hopes of escaping this alive wasn't helped by the fact that Shadrach wasn't looking exactly willing to protect her from harm.

_Some soulmate he is, _she thought snidely before another less happy thought struck her.

_Great_, she thought with a humor born from desperation, _what a way to die. To be killed by two of the world's most powerful vampires. And me being a vampire slayer too. The irony of it all. _

Her gaze slid to the embedded dagger again. Her eyes narrowed as she contemplated the chance of her ability to pull the knife out from its position. The last thing she was going to do was to stand here docilely while they kill her. It was simply not in her nature and neither would her pride allow such a thing. Before she could even move, Angelo's voice stopped her cold in her tracks.

Angelo's head whipped around to pierce her with his impossibly inhuman cobalt eyes, the cold fury in them enough to frighten even the most brave-hearted of souls.

"No you don't."

It was the last thing she heard before something struck her with the force of a stampede, throwing her into an endless abyss of darkness.

* * *

"Damn it Angelo, why did you do that for?" Shadrach snarled as he darted forward to catch the slayer in his arms before she hit the ground. He had felt the backlash of Angelo's power as it had glanced by him and hit _her_. Incomprehensible fear clogged his throat as he tried to check for a pulse. 

If she was hurt, or even killed by Angelo, by god, he will kill the vampire himself, friend or not.

"She isn't dead yet, Silverthorne. I only knocked her out because she was trying to find a way to kill us," Angelo snapped curtly, annoyed and startled by the behavior of the usually cold and detached man he had come to know as a friend.

A feeling of relief came over Shadrach when he realized that Angelo was telling the truth as he felt the steady pulse of Kiele's heartbeat. The relief he felt was replaced by anger towards Angelo.

"You will regret it if you ever, ever hurt her again," Shadrach bit off the ends of each words, mouth set back in a snarl as the vampiric side of him begun to show.

"What?" Angelo looked at him as though he was crazy. "I would beg to differ, but that would require me to use the word beg, but, in case your memory is failing, _you_ were the one who ordered us to find the slayer and kill her, not kiss her. Even if the two words begin with the letter 'K' and have four syllabuses, it doesn't mean that they have the same meaning." Heavy sarcasm laced every word of Angelo's, incredulity in his eyes.

Shadrach had remained silent throughout the whole time, his face back in the impassive mask he wore everyday. His gaze lifted, silver eyes inscrutable, piercing in their intensity. Stiffly, his face not betraying a single expression, he stated," We had an agreement, Angelo. I do not interfere in your affairs-"

"And I do not interfere in yours, " Frustrated, Angelo shoved a hand through his hair, cobalt eyes aggravated. "But-" Unable to come up with anything to refute the point Shadrach had brought up, Angelo simply let out a infuriated snarl.

"Good retort," Shadrach muttered, amusement glinting in his grey eyes.

Whatever Angelo was about to say, or more likely snarl out was lost as someone appeared in the room.

Two someones to be exact.

Angelo always had a headache trying to differ the D'Ary twins from one another, so he had stopped trying after a while and simply called them the twins, especially when he kept getting them wrong and when he was sure the twins were enjoying his confusion.

Even though both vampire brother and sister possessed angelic looks and had stopped aging at the age of twelve, Angelo knew that they were one of the best in the Nightworld at what they do despite their deceiving appearances, which was essentially killing and torturing without leaving a trace. But still, Angelo did not trust nor like them. There was something simply too eerie and inhuman about the two and they enjoy the process of tearing their victim to bits centimeter by centimeter too much for his liking. All in all, simply being in close proximity with them gave him the creeps.

"Approaching slayers," One of them said detachedly, blank blue eyes giving the room and the situation a once over. The gaze stopped briefly at the slayer, before moving back to Shadrach, all without a change in expression.

Apparently, one of the slayers had gotten free and informed the other slayers nearby. It wouldn't be wise to stay here any longer, not that he doubted their ability to finish off the puny humans heading their way. After all, strength was in numbers and it was only the four of them plus a currently unconscious slayer against god knows how many human pesticides. Angelo looked towards Shadrach, who had stood up, the slayer cradled in his arms.

"Lets go."

* * *

_The Past, England 1816, London. _

_Glyn was used to hardship. _

_After all, her childhood was one that one could hardly describe as filled with love and care. She wasn't born with a silver spoon between her lips, unlike so many of the aristocrats that live in the beautiful streets of London. _

_She was in fact abandoned as a babe, placed on the doorsteps of the orphanage with a letter accompanying her. The only link she had of her parents was the gold necklace with a heart-shaped pendant that had been with her since her birth. Her hands automatically went to this particular charm for comfort in her days in the orphanage. _

_She hated that place: the people, the dank environment, the tasteless meals, the bullies and the caregivers, if they can be called as such. In Glyn's opinion, they were more in the category of 'pain givers'. The first chance she had, she had high-tailed it out of the dreadful place. _

_When she had first gotten out onto the streets, she had made her way to a couple of respectable companies to find a job, mostly as a nanny or governess. Then she had realized her gullibility. No aristocrat in _her_ right mind would hire someone like her. It wasn't because she did not have a credential, as one manager had kindly pointed out, but the fact that she was young and pretty. _

_It would seem that the married women of the ton had not much trust in their husbands ability to remain faithful, especially with a young and pretty woman living under the same roof. Rather than chancing the risk, most simply avoid hiring young girls like she herself. _

_Glyn did not consider herself pretty. She was too scrawny from her years of having to live on the harsh streets, and her eyes, of all the colours, had to be purple. Who ever in the world has heard of _purple_ eyes? Her face was too sharp and thin for her ever to be considered beautiful and her hair, once a colour of wheat, had been chopped off to sell into a short bob and dyed a mousy brown by Janice. Janice, also an orphan, had never liked Glyn for reasons unknown to her and she had taken every chance she could get to play a prank on Glyn or to get her into trouble. One of her pranks had involved a bottle of brown dye and Glyn sleeping while it had happened. _

_But even though she wasn't pretty, she was young. And that, the manager had assured her, was enough to deter the ladies of the ton form hiring her. So she hadn't had a choice but to seek employment as a maid in the many households that line the streets of London. It was either that or she would be forced to sell herself on the streets. It was a condemning fate to endure. Glyn had seen many of such prostitutes during her life in the orphanage. The sight of them had been enough for her to swear never become one of them, even if it was to save her life. She had been lucky enough to find a job as a maid within the household of the Ashcrofts, who are, as she was told since she had never had the chance to meet them, very nice people as compared to many of the other aristocrats who apparently mistreat or rather treat their servants like slaves. _

_She had been given a wonderful overview of the couple who were apparently 'wonderful, caring people who are genuinely in love unlike many of the ton married couples', as she was told by the butler, housekeeper, governess all the way down the ranks to the scullery maid, all of whom obviously adored the Ashcrofts. _

_The kitchen she worked in was in a mess with people rushing about the place carrying out chores in order to prepare for tonight's party, which the Ashcrofts were holding._

_Liveried servants decked out in the colours of the Ashcrofts (pale blue and silver) rushed in and out the kitchen so many times that Cook, incessantly irritated by their disturbance and intrusion into her territory, had barred them out of her kitchen. Just as Glyn thought things were finally going smoothly, a very harassed and panicked Trissa, Lady Ashcroft's lady's maid, came rushing in with the panicked announcement that the governess had taken ill at the last minute and would not be able to take care of the young master and that the Lady had asked if Mrs. Ryin, the housekeeper, was able to spare a maid to take the place of Miss Tibbles, the governess._

_A few minutes later, Glyn found herself rocking a young child of one to sleep while trying to keep most of the baby's drool off herself. Sounds of the ongoing party below traveled softly through the thick wooden nursery door that separated them from the rest of the house. _

_A few minutes later, Glyn found herself rocking a young child of one to sleep while trying to keep most of the baby's drool off herself. Sounds of the ongoing party below traveled softly through the thick wooden nursery door that separated them from the rest of the house. Sitting there in the silent nursery, some part of her yearned to be amongst the aristocracy, away from this life of poverty and misery that had haunted her every footstep, even though she knew clearly in her heart that it was impossible. _

_Fairytales as such simply do not happen in the real world. They are what they are: simply tales written to fulfill the children's dreams, nothing more. It was amazing how disillusioned one can become simply due to the passing of time and experiences in life._

_Glancing down, she found the child already in deep slumber, sucking on his thumb even in sleep. Gingerly, she got up and placed the sleeping child into the crib, careful not to awaken the babe with sudden movements and put her past half-hour's efforts to waste. _

_Task done, she let out a soft sigh of relief and stretched herself, having been in the same position for too long a period. On silent foot, she headed towards the door, opening it just a tiny bit and easing herself out before closing it gently behind her. Without the nursery door now to serve as a noise insulator, the sounds of the party going in full swing downstairs came to her ears clearly. _

_She recognized the lilting waltz as one of Hayden's. It was a song that one of the caretakers at the orphanage had loved to play every night even though her skills at the pianoforte were not something to be proud of. To put it simply, she would rather been deaf; such was the extent of her ability at butchering the piece beyond recognition. _

_Had poor Mr. Hayden be able to hear this, he would be spinning in his grave. _

_Quietly, she walked briskly along the corridor, wanting to reach the servants' quarters quicker so that she might have the dinner she was deprived of just now and some, in her opinion, rightly deserved sleep. Turning sharply at a corner, she was still contemplating her dinner when she bumped, rather solidly into someone, knocking the breath out of her. _

_Hands grabbed hold of her by the arms before she lost her balance completely. _

_"Are you alright?" The deep baritone had Glyn groaning inwardly to herself. Why did it have to be an aristocrat of all people? And one apparently on his was to an illicit liaison if the lady by his side was any indication. Glyn sniffed in disapproval privately as she sneaked a discreet look at the lady in question. Well-dressed and pretty. And clingy. It was almost as though she had no backbone form the way she was clinging and just about hanging from the gentleman's arm. Surprise had her looking up at the man whose hand held her arm gently but firmly, his grey eyes twinkling in suppressed amusement at her apparently, even though she was sure she had done nothing. _

_That and the fact that he was laughing at her for reasons unknown to her caused a scowl to appear on her face. In turn, her lack of decorum caused the spineless lady to scowl at her in distaste and to her frustration, to deepen the smile on the gentleman's face. _

_Looking down pointedly at his hand, which still grabbed her arm, she asked in an overly sweet tone that grated even on her own ears," What may I do for you, my lord?" _

_"We are looking for the library," The lady sounded as though she would rather lose her way than to ask her for help. _

And we would like to be alone_. Glyn helped the lady finished the unspoken part of the sentence. There was no mistaking the sly and meaningful glance the lady was slanting towards the gentleman. _

_The same feeling didn't appear to be reciprocated by the gentleman, who was looking down at the lady with barely suppressed impatience that shone through his grey eyes. In fact, he did not seem very eager to be left alone with the lady in question. _

_Which put Glyn in a very difficult position indeed. In the either way that she responses, she would face the risk of insulting one of the aristocrats. So she took the easy way out. _

_"I am still new to this house, my lord and lady, and I do not know my way around here well," She pasted a apologetic smile on face as she curtsied deeply. Planning to go off and make her escape while she still could, she realized that he still held on to her arm. _

_"My arm if you please my lord," She tilted her head slightly. _

_"Why don't you let her go Theorn? Then we can go off to find the library ourselves…" The lady's voice trailed off suggestively, leaving Glyn a clear idea with what exactly she had in mind. Reading was definitely not on the lady's to-do list with the gentleman. Completely expecting him to comply, eagerly even (which hot-blooded man wouldn't?), he surprised her by cursing softly under his breath. In French. _

_"I am tired of this," he snarled bad-temperedly. Glaring down at the wide-eyed lady, he continued," Lady Gilford, please get yourself off me. I have made it clear and I will do so again: I have no wish to be your lover." _

_The word 'lover' made Glyn blush in mortification and wished herself somewhere else far away from here, trapped in the midst of a quarrel between two aristocrats. She tried to surreptitiously pull her arm out of the gentleman's death grip but it was to no avail. If anything, he tightened his grip more. _

_Her fate sealed, Glyn heaved an inward sigh as she waited for the heated argument to stop. By the time it eventually did, with the lady storming off, wrath in her every step, Glyn was beginning to tire. She had missed her dinner and she was tired, hungry and cranky. _

_"Would you please let go of my arm?" She gritted out between clenched teeth, too cranky to worry about her breach of etiquette. _

_Immediately, he dropped her arm," I am sorry-" He begun but Glyn was already storming off towards the servants quarters. She had only walked a few steps however when he grabbed her arm again, stopping her in her tracks. _

_"What?" She snarled out the single syllabus, glaring daggers at the offending hand before turning that glare onto the owner, who was grinning at her apparent grumpiness. He didn't seem to mind that she was not exactly the soul of civility to him even though she was a mere servant. _

_"I need help getting back to the ballroom." _

_

* * *

_

_Theorn grinned in amusement at the fiery blond that was stomping in front of him, leading him back, however unwillingly to the ballroom the Lady Gilmore had dragged him out of. Never had he came across a servant with a temper and daring like hers was. It was a rather refreshing experience if you ask him. _

_And she was pretty, with her startling violet eyes and delicate features. Theorn had this nagging feeling that he had seen her somewhere before; he just couldn't recall where. Perhaps a glance when he went by her in his carriage? Hers was a face that was unforgettable. Dismissing it, he set his mind to more important matters: Like how he was going to explain to the Lady Ashcroft about his lateness and disappearing act. _

_He heaved an inward sigh. _

_Alexandria was lovely, but she could be a dragon with a will of steel at times. _

_Amazing how a tiny slip of a woman could so effectively scare men of their age and experience so well. It was downright embarrassing and humbling. _

_It was only then that he realized that the girl had stopped in front of and was glaring at him with a wrathful expression. _

_"The ballroom, my lord." _

_He did not even have the chance to thank her before she was gone in a blink of an eye. _

_Dismissing her, he turned back to the ballroom he was remised from for so long and found Alexandria, of all people, bearing down on him with what he could only describe as an utterly fake smile, her eyes flashing. _

_Looking around him, he found himself without a way to escape. Heaving a sigh, he pasted a smile on his face and turned back to face Alexandra, whose smile had vanished once she was out of sight from the rest of the _ton_ and was glaring at him as though there was no tomorrow. _

_Stabbing a long, manicured fingernail in his face, which missed his eye only by a few inches, she hissed in an undertone," Theorn Matthew Delano Claymore! You are late!" _

_"Alexandria, how nice to see you. That is a nice dress you have on," Pretending not to hear her comment, he reached past her to pick up a flute of champagne from the passing waiter. _

_"Don't even try to change the subject! You are late!" _

_"I realized that," Theorn replied dryly, grey eyes twinkling in amusement at the obvious effort the Countess of Langford was exerting to keep her volume down. _

_"Do you realize how many young ladies are waiting to be introduced to you?" She continued relentlessly, steering the topic towards, as always, eligible young ladies. _

_"And that is precisely the reason why I always try to be late," Theorn muttered under his breathe. It had been Alexandria's goal for him and Christian to marry since her own marriage. _

_Behind her, he saw Greyson heading in their direction, a grin on his face. Theorn simply lifted a brow at his close friend of many years before turning his attention to look for Christian. He immediately found his brother on the dance floor with a petite blond. _

_"That is the Miss Gwenivere Sophia Thornton, "Alexandria answered his unasked question, "Lovely isn't she?" Saying so, Alexandria beamed up at him before darting a sly and satisfied look at the couple twirling on the dance floor. _

_Theorn suddenly felt sorry for his brother. It was obvious as to what Alexandria had up her sleeves and if Christian wasn't careful, he might very well find himself walking down the marriage aisle with Miss Gwenivere Sophia Thornton if Alexandria had her way. _

_"Oh look, there is Miss-"_

_Whatever Alexandria was about to say was drowned out by the footmen's announcement," The Duchess of Gunningworth!" _

_A ripple of murmurs and whispers spread across the ballroom. The Duchess was a mysterious figure that no one had ever seen before. It was said that her beauty was one that rivaled even that of the moon, yet it was also said that she was ugly beyond belief. _

_Intrigued, Theorn looked up and found himself stunned like everyone else in the ballroom as the Duchess glided down the stairs, her long black hair flowing down her back. _

_He wasn't stunned by her beauty, but her eyes. _

_Even as he watched, the gold of her eyes turned a deep violet. _

_

* * *

**A/N: ** _

**This is only part one of the chapter. Part two will hopefully be out soon...**

**_I will not be updating as often or maybe even not during this month of November. This is because I am participating in an online novel writing competition, Nanowrimo (national novel writing month) together with my friend to accomplish my yen for being a writer, even if I happened to turn out to be a lousy one. : )_**

**_In any case, I hope that this chapter (definitely one of the longest I have written) is up to standards. I really hope so. Please give me your thoughts on this chapter through reviews thank you!_**

**_Yours,_**

**_-twilightstaruby_**


	11. Chapter Ten: To Be Or Not To Be

Title: Song of the Siren

Author: Twilight-staruby

Disclaimer: I do not own Nightworld because if I did, I won't be doing fanfic, I would be publishing. :'p

Author's notes: No offense to Shakespeare : ) I have decided to keep the chapters short so that I can update more often kz...

* * *

_**"To be or not to be, --**that is the question:--__  
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer  
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune  
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,  
And by opposing end them?"_

_-- From Hamlet (III, i, 56-61), William Shakespeare_

Chapter Eleven: To be or Not to be

"Dammit, Shadrach. What the hell do you think you were doing back there?" It was the first thing that the infuriated lamia snapped out as he slammed the door close behind him with enough force to shake the rafters.

"Careful about the door. It is a particular favorite of mine." There was a mild tinge of amusement in the vampire's voice as he poured himself a snifter of brandy. "Brandy?" he offered with a tilt of his head, his grey eyes inscrutable.

"_You_ might need after I am finished with you." Angelo snarled at the nonchalance Shadrach was putting on.

It was almost as though he hadn't done anything he wasn't supposed to do.

Like _kissin_g the slayer instead of _killing_ her.

And taking _her _with them.

The last thought infuriated him so much that he snatched up the brandy he had rejected out of Shadrach's hand and downed it in one go.

"What the hell were you thinking of?" He slammed down the empty snifter onto the oak desk so hard it shattered, the glass shards digging deep into his palm.

He ignored the slight jolt of pain it caused, reveled in it, for it gave him something to vent his anger out on. Even now, the cuts were healing rapidly, shifting the glass shards out of his flesh in the process.

"And here I was thinking you didn't want that brandy." Shadrach commented as he poured himself another snifter and sat himself in one smooth movement behind the desk.

It was a calculated move to remind Angelo that he was merely Shadrach's subordinate rather than a sudden need to sit.

Angelo realized immediately and said with sudden forced calm," So it has and would come to this, over a mere human, a _slayer_?"

"She might be someone important to me." There was regret, even remorse in Shadrach's tone.

"She could destroy us all." Angelo shoved a hand through his hair, a telltale sign of frustration. "Once the Council finds out that you are harboring a slayer within-"

"They won't." Shadrach cut him off, lifting the brandy to his lips. "The D'Ary twins will not talk. They owe me too much."

_And you won't tell either. _

It was the unsaid part of Shadrach's sentence. He needn't say, because both of them knew it.

"Perhaps so." Angelo acknowledged, not dismissing the possibility, "But I still think that you are making a mistake."

With that, the lamia left the room, leaving Shadrach alone to stare at the hypnotizing swirl of the clear auburn liquid left in his glass and let himself admit something he did not say earlier on.

_So do I. _

* * *

The first thing Kiele realize when she awoke was that she had a pounding headache. 

The second thing she saw was a pair of very curious golden cat-like eyes observing her with a wary and remote expression. Long gold hair fell down like a sheet over her shoulders, framing an exquisite face.

"How do you feel?" It was said in a soft, carefully modulated voice as its owner pressed a small cool hand on her head.

"Headache." Kiele croaked out in a voice that was suffering from an extremely dry throat.

"I suspect as much." Saying so, the woman turned away to a small table not far away, pouring water into a glass and adding some sort powder to it that turned it a soothing pale green.

Turning back, she cupped Kiele's head and lifted her slightly before touching the cup to her lips. Too weak to protest or fight against being given something unknown, Kiele took a swallow and felt a cooling sensation sweep through her and miraculously, the pain ebbed away.

"Better?"

At Kiele's grateful nod, she slipped her hand away and headed towards the door.

Realizing that she was leaving, Kiele called out," Wait. Please."

The woman turned back to regard her with an impassive face, her exotic gold eyes unfathomable.

Suddenly caught at a loss, Kiele blurted out the first thing that came to her mind," What is your name?"

Silence. The woman's eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion filling them before in silence,she turned away to the door again.

"Charise." The softly uttered word was the last thing she heard before the door closed with a soft click.

Left alone, Kiele let herself take in the room she was in.

It was a lovely room. The walls were brushed in a rich burgundy colour, the furniture rosewood. The room reeked of money, old money.

She wondered where she was, and what she was doing here. She didn't really recall much of what had happened before. Except there was this flash of power that had whipped by her…

"I see you are feeling well," A voice drawled out lazily, laced heavily with sarcasm.

A very familiar voice. And everything that had occurred before fell into place in that split second.

She had been together with Shadrach in the rented apartment in Las Vegas then Angelo had arrived.

She shot up rigidly in the bed, her violet eyes narrowed warily at the lamia that lounged casually against the bedpost.

Angelo.

She didn't know when he had entered or how he had gotten so close without her knowing. Her hand automatically crept to her knife which she usually strapped to her thigh.

"Don't bother. It isn't there." He offered casually.

Kiele had the nasty feeling he had read her mind and quickly threw up the mind shields she had forgotten, shielding herself from him.

"How sad. I was really having fun probing into your mind. Funny how twisted it is compared to mine."

"How sad. I was really having fun probing into your mind."

Kiele didn't even bother to answer to his jibe.

"Why am I here? Because the last time you saw me, you tried to kill me."

"Touché my dear. One never brings up such things in polite company." Amusement practically dripped from Angelo's voice.

Much as Kiele tried to restrain herself, she could resist throwing back a, "But you are not polite company are you?"

"I can be, provided when I am with some." With that backhanded reply, he moved away slightly as though making his way out of the door.

Suddenly, he was in front of her, his hand closed gently around her neck, his face inches away from hers.

"Given the choice, I would have killed you slayer. Be grateful you are still living. However, if you should step out of line, hell won't be so far away."

He released her as suddenly as he had grabbed her and was gone in a blink of the eye.

* * *

A/N: It is coming to an end finally...after a few more chapters...then I can rest...lolx...:') in any case, the title of the chapter and the quotation has nothing to do with the chapter, or maybe it has... i just like the way it sounds...:'p 


	12. Broken

**.Song. .of. .the. .Siren.**

Twilight-staruby

**o------------------------------------------------------------------------------o**

**Summary: A made vampire, Shadrach Silverthorne is everything a NightWorld leader is expected to be: Ruthless and powerful. Until Kiele, a vampire slayer so closely linked to the his treacherous past, shows up...it will all turn out for the better, or worse.**

**o------------------------------------------------------------------------------o**

_For the sword outwears its sheath _

_And the soul wears out the breast _

_And a heart must pause to breathe _

_And_ _love itself have rest._

**Lord Byron, _(1788 - 1824_**

**Chapter Eleven: Broken**

_Flowers, acres of them, surrounded her, releasing their heady fragrance into the crisp night air. _

_She could smell the fresh, salty smell of the sea, hear the crash of waves. _

_Quietly, she wondered in awe where she was, afraid that if she did make a sound, all of these would disappear. _

_Illuminated by the faint moonlight only, the place glowed with the ethereal light only a magical place will have. She wanted to stay here forever, where she was away from all the pain and harshness of reality...away from the truth..._

_A sudden rustling sound had her snapping around, her hand automatically reaching down to her thigh where she always strapped her knife to._

_It was then she realised she was dressed only in a flimsy looking white dress that hung by straps on her shoulders._

_It wasn't exactly an ideal dressing for one to be facing an unknown enemy in._

_Kiele did the only thing she could do: wait._

_Apprehensively, she waited, her body tensed as the footsteps came closer and closer, the heavy sound of footfalls heavy and dulled by the carpet of flowers._

_She held her breath as the shadowy figure came closer, step by ominous step._

_Then the person stepped into the moonlight._

_"You!" Even as she snarled that out, she was backing away. _

_He was danger, a murderer and everything she loath._

_"Where am I?" She demanded edgily._

_"Your dream." He answered simply._

_She started. It really had not been the answer she had been expecting._

_Her dream? _

_"As if I would believe you." She spat out._

_"Please don't." The soft command startled her._

_She couldn't help it: she stared. _

_It was a tone she never expected to come from the most ruthless of the vampires. She wouldn't even have bat an eyelid if that blasted Angelo, known for his varied mood swings, had spoken in that tone, but Shadrach Silverthorne?_

_"Please listen to me...Gwenivere."_

_The softly uttered name had the impact of a fifty-kilogram boulder thrown at her._

_Her breathe whooshed out of and for a moment, she could only stare. Stared as he neared her. Stared as he reached out a hand to stroke her cheek softly. Stared as he smiled a sad smile at her._

_"I am-not...Gwenivere." The words came out with an effort, forced out as she jerked back from the man she was taught to hate for her whole life._

_Too many unwanted memories, struggling to break out within her. Memories that were Gwenivere. _

_Kiele realised she was afraid; afraid of being forced to see things previously starkly black and white change into grayscale._

_He didn't say a word but simply reached for her._

_This time, she didn't resist, couldn't and she simply let him pull her into his arms._

_A hand on her waist, they began to waltz a timeless waltz that was theirs and theirs alone. Music, imaginary perhaps, floated in,_ _soft and melodious strains of Haydn...just like the first time._

**_Is dancing with me such a torture?_**

_Memories, memories that made Gwenivere who she was, long-forgotten brushed in, giving Kiele glimpses of her past._

_**You are...you. Unique.**_

_"Why? Why are you doing this?" She whispered out._

_**Then the people who think like that are idiots.**_

_"Because...you were everything to me." His grey eyes were solemn as he looked down at her._

_Strangely enough, she believed him. Just like Gwenivere did._

_"Sha-"_

_"Christian." He cut in softly. "Christian." _

_"Christian."__This time, when she said his name, a small smile curved her lips._

_As they danced to the music to their own time, she let herself drown in the grey depths that was him and him alone and let herself forget everything._

_Just for now._

**o--------------------------------------------------------------------o**

When Kiele woke up from her dream-like stupor, she knew he was there in the room with her.

His aura was one that was hard to ignore when he was not soughting to hide it.

She sat up.

Seated across her bed, he was there in a chair, hands clasped in front of him in a deceivingly pious look. Unnervingly, his grey eyes were fixed on her face, piercing and intense.

Instinctively, her hand went up to smooth her hair before she realised what she had done and hurriedly shifted her hands into her lap, a blush staining her face as she prayed feverently that he hadn't noticed.

_Damn the vampire._ She cursed inwardly.

A small smile of amusement crossed his face as he stood up in a fluid movement.

Unfortunately for her, it appeared he had.

She glared at him, daring him to laugh.

He did neither, even though the smile lingered. Instead, he clasped his hands behind his back, never breaking his gaze from hers.

"You have questions, I gather."

"You think?"

**o------------------------------------------------------------------------------o**

**A tad abrupt, sorry about that but R&R please :')**


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